


Puncture

by NattieFOURLarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood Loss, Bottom Louis, Confusion, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Human/Vampire Relationship, Lust, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Magic, Minor Character Death, Near Death, POV Third Person, Past Character Death, Top Harry, Vampire Bites, Vampire Harry, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26782090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NattieFOURLarry/pseuds/NattieFOURLarry
Summary: It was just a bite, a simple bite that accidentally changed Louis' fate, a bite he can't recall experiencing. He was living in confusion, his daily life filled with gaps in his memories, important details escaping him just as quickly as he remembered.Someone was fucking with him. But who? And more importantly why?-Or-An alternate universe where Harry bites Louis and hates the taste of his blood but is still obsessed with him anyway.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	Puncture

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this was written on a whim! I had this sudden urge to write a vampire fic, or some sort of folklore for Halloween and here we have it! 
> 
> There's lots of blood, no gore, just a lot of blood. It's not a horror fic let's just put it that way!
> 
> Also to note, to differentiate who's head you're in (this is in third person), I've used asterisks with either an L or an H. Hopefully there's no confusion.
> 
> And woah I accidentally tagged a k pop dude. Oops!! Fixed it
> 
> Enjoy!

There's a frigid hand resting against his lower back, an even colder palm cupping his heated cheek and jawline, a muscular torso pushing him further into the brick biting at his spine. His arms are pinned behind him, his lower limbs thrashing about as he's lifted further from the ground. His throat is cinched shut, he can't scream or beg for mercy. He's rendered speechless from fear.

His feet smack against his attacker's legs, make contact with two cement blocks rather than thighs. It's impossible! Is this even a man?

_ A human!? _

His forehead pearls with perspiration, his fingers wring behind his back, his shoulders push off the facade of the building in an attempt to escape! And he must! He needs to get back to his friends, to his life, to his freedom! He can't go down without a fight.

He struggles some more, twists his torso to release his hands, kicks out even harder! But he whimpers at the pain in his toes. There's no give. He's hitting stone.

Those spindly fingers rest against his stubbled cheek, press into his jaw, remind him of the helplessness saturating his soul, "relax." Their voice is persuasive, husky,  _ sensual _ . 

He only struggles more, whips his head back and forth, chokes on a single syllable:  _ No!! _

"This doesn't have to be difficult," they continue, their body touching every inch of his legs and stomach. He wants to vomit. "If you only hold still-"

He pushes the word past his throat and chapped lips, "no!" He manages considering it's just a squeak. 

They chuckle a deep, gutteral laugh, "no?" They're mocking him!? "I never did enjoy playing with my food." The hairs at the back of his neck stand at attention from the comment. "Oh! Your pulse quickened. That's lovely. Just perfect." Their palm presses into his throbbing neck, the chill from that single touch creeping underneath his skin. 

_ No. No. No! _ His legs continue to thrash about, puffs of air push past his lips. 

They lean into him, sniff at his collar, sigh in what sounds like pleasure, "just as good as I imagined."

A tear escapes his eye _ , no! _

"Just as intoxicating," they sniff at him again, move about his collar and throat. "Simply divine." 

He whimpers louder, more urgently.

Their other hand skirts over his rear, cups him harshly as if to hold him in place. He convulses out of fear, twitches and trembles, pushes and kicks out his legs! 

_ It's time!? Already!? _

No!

Their fingers sink into his hair, pull at the short strands, and tug his head to the left revealing his unblemished neckline. 

"Oh!" They giggle, "oh your pulse is beckoning to me, imploring me,  _ begging _ me to just have a taste." They purr.

He fights back but his hair is in an iron-like grip. 

Their eyes meet unexpectedly, a single dull green iris holds his gaze with just as much force as their hands. Most of their face is masked in shadow, the outline of a defined jaw and sharp nose just visible, "I can practically taste you on the tip of my" -two gleaming and rather sharp looking incisors elongate, push past his captor's lips- "tongue." 

He kicks fiercely at their legs, twists his body, fights at the fingers digging into his skull. He releases a high pitched screech at the imminent pain that will ensue, the probability of his own death catapulting towards him.

"Mmm," they hum in satisfaction, inch closer to his neck. "Always so loud." They mumble, their voice slightly distorted from the  _ fangs _ . "You'll attract the attention of our neighbors." They continue to speak. "And I hate to rush." A single tear escapes his eye. "Oh?" They come closer revealing more of their face. Those eyes are dead.  _ Dead!!! _ "Are you crying?" They ask rather curiously.

He struggles some more.

With a nimble thumb, they rub away his tear, swipe at his stubbled cheek, "no more of that. This will be as quick and painless-" they chuckle, "-well, not exactly painless but just hold still-"

He thrashes about once more in retaliation, whimpers and cries, releases another squeak in attempt to get the attention of a passerby. But the grip is too powerful, especially against his weakened state. He's too afraid. 

They grope his ass with more force, push him firmly against the wall, overtake him with their body, "what did I  _ say _ ?" His tone changed then. The once giggly assailant has now become his predator, his biggest threat, his  _ killer _ . 

His eyes fill with tears as his fear chokes the air from his lungs.  _ He's going to end my life. _

Those teeth are gleaming in the darkness, their intent clear, their destination set and ready to strike. They dip their head towards his collar, run their nose along the soft fabric of his shirt, and sigh.  _ They sigh!! _ His cheeks tickle from tears. 

"Hmmm, yes," their voice returned. They lift their head once more, nearly startle him as the face of a murderer stares back at him. Their eyes are now two black pits, lips a deep red and splitting from the incisors girth and length, a face stark white. Nails puncture his rear and his skull simultaneously, the sudden pinch too quick to even react. He can't think or fathom the pain that's to come. "This is how I imagined it. Just like this-"

The movement is blinding, a blur, life ending!!

He cries out instantly as the pain blooms, as two incisors sink into his skin, as blood pools and soaks into his shirt. His eyes are flooded with tears, his mind scrambling, his will ebbing away as the world begins to tilt and swirl. He's losing his coherency already, the blood loss making him light-headed and disoriented. He continues to scream into the night as if someone will hear or care, releases his pain and suffering, stiffens his limbs when all goes black.

**L**

"How did you do?" 

Louis scratches at his head, "on what?" His book is laid out before him, the numbers from the day's trades jumbling together in a giant black blur. 

"How did you convince Cowell to buy those shares?" Liam nudges his arm, stirring him from his thoughts.

Louis smirks, lifts his head to meet his friend's gaze, "the dude is a fucking moron. He'd believe anything." 

"Don't be so sure-"

He pounds his chest, "I'm a stock broker, not a babysitter. If something goes wrong" -he shrugs- "that's the volatility of the market! That's not on my back."

"Yeah but you were responsible for the trade! He could easily say you bribed him into purchasing something shitty!" Liam protests.

But Zayn comes to his rescue, " _ that's the volatility of the market _ ." He mocks him.

"Thanks, douchebag," Louis smacks his friend upside the head.

"That's what you sound like, a whiny bitch."

He scoffs, "as if! I only sound like a bitch when I'm under the gun, then I really lay it on thick for the boss," he waggles his eyebrows, closes his book in an attempt to call it a day. "Alright!" He announces. "A round of drinks on me."

Liam stands from his desk, tugs at his tie, "about time. I was wondering when you'd call it a night."

"Last I checked, you had legs," he shoves his book into his desk, flips his laptop closed. "You can leave anytime." He points to the door.

"You made  _ the sale _ of the day. I can't pass up a free drink!" 

Zayn is at the door first, his hands shoved into his pockets, hair tousled from running his fingers through the smooth tresses, "add a round of appetizers to that bill."

He groans, " _ sure _ ." 

They head outside into the cool air, walk towards the center of town, continue their conversation about Cowell's lack of brain cells and his inability to pass up a rare deal. In the end, he was screwed over but that's something Louis will keep to himself until the obvious reveals itself.

Then he's got some work to do.

"Who was in the deal with you?" Zayn asks.

He lights up a cigarette, "some shithead Dan Wootton. He was just as incompetent," he says. "It went well overall I think."

Liam chuckles, "I'm assuming you used your charm to-" A pale faced boy comes running past, smacks into Liam's shoulder, practically tackles him to the ground! He's whimpering, breathing heavily from exertion, "Woah!" They fall to the sidewalk in a giant heep.

"No! No! No!" The kid untangles their limbs, scrambles to his feet, and continues to run as if being chased.

"What happened to his clothes?" Louis asks, takes a rather long drag from his cigarette. The boy's shorts are tattered, his shirt torn across the back and collar, droplets of blood litter his small frame. He can't make sense of what he's witnessing.

"Should we go after him?" Liam swipes the front of his shirt.

Zayn runs his fingers through his hair, "and get involved in his mess? No way." 

"But there was blood on his clothes! We can't just let him-"

Louis shakes his head, "Zayn's right. We don't know what shit he's gotten himself into. Maybe he robbed a store or is some druggie. And if I'm honest-"

Liam shakes his head "no, couldn't be." They begin walking once more.

"How do you know?" He asks, flicks his cigarette to the ground.

Liam shrugs, "the blood. It was dotted across his shoulders and back." 

"Okay and? The kid could have broken through a plate glass window."

"Vessel," Zayn whispers from next to him.

He shakes his head in confusion, "come again?" 

"A vessel." 

Liam stops in front of the bar, "that's what I feared."

"What's that?" Louis demands.

Zayn glances inside, bites at his lip, "Stringer is one."

Liam's eyes light up, "no way!" 

Louis growls, "what the fuck is a  _ vessel _ ?"

Zayn shoves him into the building in warning, "shut up!!"

He eyes his friend, "can someone explain to me what's going on?"

Liam approaches them, "don't say it too loudly. It's not something most people know about or would even think exists. But it's more common than you think. And especially if our boss is one." 

"Yeah I couldn't believe it either," Zayn pulls the door handle. "Not until I saw the, you know, visible markings."

"What markings?" He follows his friends inside. 

"Shush and I'll explain in a sec," Liam says. 

They find a table towards the back and order a round of drinks and food.

"So go on. I'm all ears," he glares at his two friends, waits for an explanation. But they both hesitate as if the truth is that outlandish than he suspected. "Well?" He presses.

"Right," Zayn starts. "Okay, well I didn't mean to catch Stringer in the act but it was-"

His eyes widen, " _ the  _ act!?" 

"No!" Zayn corrects, takes a sip of his drink.

"You saw the blood?" Liam asks.

Zayn shakes his head, "I saw the wound marks after a meeting."

"Marks? Wounds?" Louis scratches his head.

"On his wrist, the blood was gone. I assume-" Zayn takes another drink.

"They can easily stop the bleeding," Liam finishes. "It's something to do with the-"

"Here you go!" Their server places two large plates on their table filled with greasy bar food, "anything else?" She asks.

"Nope! We're good!" Louis says and watches her walk away. 

He finds a man in the corner cradling a beer then, sitting with his back against the wall, his hair long and draped across most of his face. His body stiffens when the stranger tilts his head towards him, reveals a single green iris.

"-stop the bleeding somehow. I never understood it but maybe it has something to do with their saliva?" 

He whips his head around, "wait what?" He rejoins the conversation.

"Or the poison," Zayn says, his voice grim.

Liam scoffs, "but that doesn't make sense. It's an open wound how can they possibly-"

"Repeat that!" He demands.

"Puncture wounds, Louis," Zayn says. "Two puncture wounds that resemble bite marks were lining our bosses wrist. It adds up."

He's flabbergasted, "to what!?" 

Liam turns to their friend, "are you sure? Maybe it was a cut or something?"

Zayn shakes his head, "I'm telling you. The bosses new higher is one and they've been really close. She works nights, handles the overseas markets."

Louis takes a chip, dunks it in some salsa, "a what?" He munches loudly.

"When did she start?" Liam sips at his own drink.

"A couple of months ago."

"That's why he's so pale," Liam notes as he continues to eat. Louis kicks his friends' shins, "owe!!"

"Pale? From what?" He asks.

Zayn looks to him, "dependence."

"Oh so he's on drugs?" He assumes.

"No, not drugs. He's dependent on something else-"

"Or  _ someone _ ," Liam picks up a chicken wing, dunks it in blue cheese.

"Maybe she bites," he grimaces at the thought. "Gross."

"She  _ does _ bite," Zayn says matter of fact.

"Obviously since he had bite marks on his wrist," Louis chuckles. "Lord, you two are so gullible."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Zayn comments.

"And you do? You guys are talking about vessels, dependency, paleness. The dude is on drugs. His new hire or whatever? Woman probably does em' with him after hours!" He shoves another chip into his mouth, stands up.

"It's more than that!" Liam begs.

"I'm  _ sure _ ," Louis groans. "I'm going out for a smoke." He heads to the back of the bar and reaches for his lighter.

**H**

Harry looks at the driver's license once more, stops the car before a small gray bungalow with a bright red door, white picket fence, and a perfectly manicured lawn. He almost continues his search because  _ this _ man lives here? How? But the address matches. 

_ He must be married then _ . He thinks.  _ This may pose as an issue.  _

He turns to the man passed out next to him, "let's hope no one is home." He says as he pulls into the driveway. He slips the license back into the stranger's wallet and shoves it into his own pocket, hesitates a moment. 

What  _ if _ someone is home? 

He jumps out of the sleek muscle car and peers around the side of the house towards the front, "No lights. I have his car." He whispers to himself. "Maybe they only have one?" He continues. "What if they're asleep?" He pulls the wallet free again, searches its contents for either a photo or some indication that they're in a relationship or some sort of domestic partnership but there's nothing except receipts, credit cards, cash. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And his finger didn't have a ring.  _ Good. _

He breathes a sigh of relief and makes his way over to the Mustang.

"Now to get you inside," he opens the door, finds the man resting haphazardly against the seat. 

His head is listing to the left exposing the rather unsightly bite mark on their neck, the gruesome puncture wounds and harshness of his actions. Harry almost feels sorry.  _ Almost _ because he's still fucking hungry and this man was meant to be his dinner. Well, technically _ breakfast _ , technically. 

He snatches them up, throws them over his shoulder, and makes his way towards the side entrance, "not a bad place you got here." He comments as he unlocks the door and pushes his way inside.

It's an impeccably clean and quante home, rather small but it's finely decorated and orderly. He almost wants to remove his dirtied boots in fear of leaving footprints across the wooden floor. 

_ Almost _ .

The man stirs slightly, moans something indiscernible, the vibrations humming across his back.

His grip tightens as he makes his way out of the kitchen and into a small vestibule, remaining alert in the event someone is home although he hasn't sensed another human. His featherlight footfalls make their way through the home, the slight echo ringing in his ears. This is the strangest predicament he's found himself in, ever.

They groan again.

"Fuck, where's the bedroom?" He quickens his pace, walks through the living room contemplating leaving them on the couch, but he immediately decides against it knowing he has to leave him the way he assumes his victim would awaken in the morning. They could have passed out drunk but he still continues on anyway. "Hmm…" he finds a short hallway and a small room off to the side. "There we go."

He enters the space, flicks on the light and deposits the man on the bed. He positions their hands across their stomach, straightens their legs, adjusts the stained-

He licks at his teeth, winces as he recounts the memory and the  _ taste  _ of this particular human's blood.

It was unpleasant, sour, too tangy, too metallic. It made his stomach churn and veins burn, made his knees weak and mind even weaker. He couldn't compose a coherent thought or even properly cauterize the wound to stop it from oozing. He was lucky to glamour them though, forced sleep upon his victim to ease both of their nerves _. _ But there's more to be done, a more permanent glamour to alter their memories.

To make them forget essentially.

Harry takes a moment to admire the man lying motionless, takes in the lightly stubbled cheeks, his artfully tousled hair, and angular jawline. His skin is delicate looking, soft to the touch, and warming, so warm and inviting. Harry wishes he tasted better because now when he thinks of this exquisite man, he'll be reminded how gross he tasted.

"Louis," he says. " _ Louis _ ." He repeats. 

The man stirs, wrings his hands, kicks his legs out. He exposes the bite mark on his collar again, the oval shaped welt that's now puffy and staining a once impeccable neckline. It's unpleasant to witness such a fuck up, his fuck up! _ Fledglings do a better job! _ He scolds himself.

He'll blame the taste for his actions.

He bends over his victim, grips the man's arm, pushes the sleeve up to reveal a dainty wrist and a thick white gold watch, "Rolex." He comments and quickly drops it as if in disgust because certainly he is disgusted, especially with himself, especially with how  _ disgusting _ -

He gags at the thought, nearly vomits all over the bedding. In all of his undead years he has  _ never _ encountered a human with such stale blood, with such a uniqueness, with such a lovely exterior and putrid interior. 

His stomach gurgles, "ugh stop!!" He holds his midsection. 

He has to choose his victims wisely, can't just go after the first delectable human in a fitted suit with a great ass and sharp jawline to cross his path. But how could he possibly predict the taste? 

Louis shouts unexpectedly then, grips harshly at his throat, thrashes his legs about.

"Bingo," he murmurs and swiftly subdues his victim. He pins the man down, prays they'll open their eyes so he can glamour him and escape just as quickly as he arrived. 

The man cries in his face, stains the crisp sheets with small droplets of blood. 

"Gross," he swallows back a bout of nausea, pushes the man further into the bed, uses his strength to subdue them. "Open your eyes!!" He says, his tone impatient.

But Louis throws his head back and forth, pushes forward, cries and  _ cries _ and fucking cries!

He curses himself, "I should just leave!" He shouts back. He can't though. The man saw his face, saw the glowing in his eyes, his face, his hair, his  _ everything _ . He'd be exposed. "God damn it!" 

"Help me!!" The man shouts, "s-someone! I'm being- I'm- I'm-" Louis finally opens his eyes, reveals blue, now terrified irises. They widen in horror at the sight.  _ His _ sight, "No!!"

The glamour is instant the moment their gazes meet, the faraway expression confirming as such, and soon Louis is still, breathing,  _ silent _ . His body goes slack, rests heavily against the mattress as if in defeat.

"About time," he sighs, finally catches a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He inspects Louis closely once again, takes in his small frame, and pink lips. There's too much to be desired, too many qualities he finds appealing, too much temptation. But the blood, the blood ruins it, "well?" He asks eventually.

Louis looks past his right shoulder, winces slightly, "my neck burns." He comments, his voice weak and just above a whisper. 

His palms begin to twitch, "how bad?" 

"Bad," tears well in his victim's eyes. "Why? Why is it doing that?"

His mouth begins to tingle with nausea, "you were injured."

"How? I was- I don't remember- wait where was I?" Louis blinks, releases his tears. "I'm confused."

His hand begins to quake, "you went out for a smoke."

"Oh, yeah okay," he knits his eyebrows, pauses as if in thought, "out from where? Do you know? Why do my arms and legs feel like jelly?"

His hold on Louis is unforgiving, his impatience now replaced with concern. He'll blame the blood, "I bit you." He reveals "-on the neck." He rushes out.

More tears come, "why?"

"I was hungry."

"You want to eat me?"

"Well, not exactly-"

Louis squirms underneath him, "then why bite my neck?"

He scrunches his eyes shut, "Good blood flow."

"You want to suck my blood?" His tone is soft, child-like even. 

"Yes."

"Why?"

He peers down at the man, "it's for nourishment."

"That's weird."

He wants to chuckle at the inane comment, "you eating potato chips is weird."

"I was hungry though," he defends.

"And I'm  _ still _ hungry."

"Don't eat me!" He begs.

He shakes his head, "I won't."

"But you tried."

"I did."

"Why?"

"I already explained why."

"But I'm alive."

"Because I couldn't finish."

"Why?"

He rolls his eyes, "your taste is less than savory."

Louis looks to him then, the tears now dried up, "really?" 

Harry's able to  _ hear _ their heart beating, is able sense the blood rushing beneath impeccable skin. He swallows, "yes."

"I'm sorry," more tears come unexpectedly.

Now it's his turn to ask, "why?"

Louis shrugs, "I thought I tasted good is all."

"Well, lucky for you, you don't."

"So, you won't attack me again?"

"No," he states matter of fact.

"Oh," Louis remains silent a moment, "why are you on top of me then?"

"I was in the middle of a glamour and you interrupted my concentration."

"Glamour? For what?"

"To make you forget."

"What?"

"Me."

"Why?"

"You ask too many questions."

"I'm curious," Louis sits silent once more, searches his bedroom, grimaces occasionally, "why does my neck burn?" He asks suddenly.

He sighs, "the venom was meant to kill you."

Louis' eyes widen, "what!?"

"And it could explain your weakening limbs..." He groans aloud at the reality, "fuck." 

"Wh-what?" 

He has to taste your disgusting blood again, that's what! "I need you to remain calm," he says instead.

"Why? Am I going to die?" Louis asks, his tone sullen.

"Not if I remove the venom."

"But then  _ you'll _ die," Louis says as if he actually cares.

"It doesn't affect me."

"Oh. Why?"

"I'm already dead," he clarifies.

Louis flinches, "dead? But you're-"

"Hold still?" He leans forward once more, grips his victim's wrists with more force, immobilizes the man. 

"Why!?" Louis begins to thrash about.

"I need to remove it!" He shouts.

"B-but, but, but-"

He bares his fangs and sinks into the wounded flesh, sputters as the taste hits his tongue, curses himself for fucking up in the first place. Louis is shouting once again towards the ceiling. 

Crying?  _ Absolutely _ . Fighting him off?  _ Usually _ . Cowering?  _ Always _ .

He works quickly anyway, ignores the usual pleas, holds his grip steady.  _ Just go. Ignore the taste. Heal the man and  _ leave _!! _ But soon the cries turn into something else, something _ not _ induced by pain, something usually associated with pleasure. 

Is it working?

Louis is no longer struggling beneath him, no longer fighting him off, no longer screaming. It's- it's-

He's moaning. He's moaning!?

And it continues as he works, increases in volume when he pulls harshly,  _ quickly _ , echoes through the bedroom as if this is meant to be a moment of intimacy. As if this is exciting.

As if he's enjoying it.

_ Oh no _ .

He quickly pulls away, releases his hold, stares down at the man lying between his legs. _Oh no_. A sweat breaks out on his brow. _Oh no!_ _No!_

Louis' eyes are completely dilated, his lips chewed, his hips dancing expectantly. He finds a slight bulge underneath his victim's fitted blue slacks too, confirming his fear _. Fuck._ He's waiting for more. What does he expect will happen?

He wants to vomit, "h-how-" he clears his throat, "did that-"

"My blood is on your mouth," Louis points a single finger at him, flutters his lashes. 

Harry instinctively touches his lips, feels the wetness, "usually happens." 

"I like it," they reach out to him but he quickly dodges the touch, shoves them away. 

"Does your neck hurt?" He chokes out.

"It feels…" Louis rests against the bed, sighs, "I feel good."

"Perfect," he grips Louis' cheeks to hold his head steady.

"Oh! You're cold," his teeth chatter.

"Usually."

"Are you going to kiss me now?" 

His stomach twists, turns in on itself, warns him to  _ hurry up _ before he gets sick!! He shakes his head, "no." 

"But I thought-"

"No!!" 

He stares into two strikingly blue irises, nearly gives in unexpectedly as a rush of emotions consume him. He leans forward, closer, and closer, licks at his stained mouth-

"No!!" He shouts and finishes the glamour before he acts on his impulses.

**L**

He cracks a single eyelid open, grips the sheets closer to his chest, inspects the dimly lit room as if he's expecting to find a person standing in the shadows. He's uneasy, he's restless, he has this feeling of dread creeping up his spine and he doesn't understand why. 

He left work, went out with his friends, ate shitty bar food, drank too much, smoked, left-

He shakes his head because when did he leave? Did he leave with Zayn and Liam? Did he drive them home? How many drinks did he have? Was he okay to operate a vehicle? What about- where did- how come there was-

"What the fuck happened?" He rolls over onto his back, stares blankly ahead at the ceiling as if the answers are there for him. But it's more blankness, more confusion, more uneasiness. It's like a giant void residing in his chest, a gaping hole perhaps, or just a hangover waiting to present itself. 

He can't be sure. He can't make sense of anything.

He turns over once more, faces the open window, watches the sunrise slowly peak over the horizon. He's transfixed on the clouds, the colors painting the sky, the birds chirping in the tree just outside. It's relaxing for him, filling him with a sense of peace, replacing this anxiety with tranquility and beauty. 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"Where did you go?" Liam asks the moment he situates himself at his desk. 

Louis managed to get dressed, avoided the mess in his bedroom, and somehow got to work on time, "home." He says. "I went home." Because that's what he concluded. He went home because he was very tired, very tired and drunk, very tired, drunk, and-

"Obviously," Liam grunts. "You left Zayn and I at the bar  _ with _ the tab!" 

He's flicked behind the ear, "hey!" Louis swipes his hand away. 

"A  _ goodbye _ would have been great!" His friend continues, "or maybe a see ya! Or a simple-"

"He lives!" Zayn approaches, sits at the edge of Louis' desk. His eyes are bright, hair styled to impress, suit crisp and fitted to perfection. 

Louis doesn't look too bad himself if he's honest, "I  _ am _ alive," he confirms. He looks fucking incredible actually.

"Barely…" Liam flops into his desk chair. 

"So what happened? You went for a smoke and never came back."

He pulls his notebook from his desk, reaches for a fountain pen, turns to the next empty page, "and I left the tab too apparently because you two hobos couldn't pay for a lousy round of beer and some appetizers." 

Liam begins knotting his tie, "yeah!" 

"And? What happened? The conversation got too weird for you?" Zayn asks. 

"Nah," he shakes it off, swallows past the void. "You guys are  _ too weird _ for me actually," He quips. "Shits not real." 

Zayn's face falls, "it is."

"We have proof!" Liam chimes in, "check out the boss-"

"No thanks he's not my type," Louis stands, tucks his journal underneath his arm.

"-and keep an eye out on his wrist!"

"That's if he's _ still here _ ," Zayn whispers as they make their way to the trading floor. 

"What?" Louis snaps, "he has to be! Slime-ball is coming back today! He said he would meet-"

"Slime-ball?" Liam taps his chin.

"Simon," Louis says.

"Stringer was too busy with that woman," Zayn finishes. 

"His new hire?" Liam asks, "what's her name?"

"Elea-"

Louis throws his hands up, "Who cares!?" He hurries down the hall. "I'm gonna be stuck with Cowbell for  _ hours _ while Stringer fucks his new assistant!?"

Liam chuckles, "uh, well not exactly-"

His friends catch up to him, "I don't care about who our boss decides to bed, I need to get this deal in motion before the stock tanks!" His blood pressure skyrockets, "what if-" his throat twinges unexpectedly. "I uh…" He hesitates, touches his neck, then his wrist. 

There's that void again.  _ What the fuck? _

"Louis!" 

He's smacked in the head, "oh!!" He's thrown forward by the contact, the momentum knocking him off balance. 

Zayn grips his shoulder, "pay attention! Simon is in the conference room."

He peers around the corner, finds the man speaking with a colleague of some sort, "oh fuck."

"Better get going!" Liam says.

"Yeah, yeah…" he mumbles and slowly makes his way over feeling his confidence wane with every step.

**H**

"I can't stand it," he's pacing the length of the living room, scuffing his boots against the hardwood floor. Harry hadn't slept since he came home and he's sure his appearance is less than appealing. "It's like" -he grips his curls- "it's like he glamoured  _ me _ and now I'm stuck with this image in my head of us, of  _ us _ !" He wrings his fingers, "and I can't let that happen."

"Why?" 

He looks to Niall sprawled across the couch. His nose is buried in a book,  _ Interview with the Vampire _ , his attention focused elsewhere, "I've seen that look before, I've given into the compulsion, I've let things go too far!"

"How so?" Niall's tone is flat, bored even, "you're acting as if you've never killed a human before."

He scoffs, "a human I've built a relationship with, cared for, took for…" he stops at the window, "for granted." 

"Harry-"

"I used some, too. I used a human for weeks, months, not years never years, but long enough to destroy them mentally and how can I do that? How cold do I have to be to do that?"

Niall drops the book, "you're cold all the time."

He groans, " _ shut up _ ."

"I'm only stating a fact."

"You could at least  _ sugar coat  _ it," he glances at his friend, "not make me feel like a monster."

"We  _ are _ monsters though."

"We are  _ surviving _ . We're not doing this because we have a choice!" He defends. "We have to  _ survive _ just like them!" He gestures out the darkened window.

"There was a choice at one time and this is the result," Niall abandons the book and approaches him. "And we chose this rather than death. So yes, Harry, we had a choice."

He wasn't given a choice but he keeps that to himself and turns away, "I don't even like his blood." 

"What do you mean?"

He licks his lips, "he grosses me out."

"I'm confused. He grosses you out yet-"

"I can't stop thinking about going back to him and for what? To use him?"

Niall remains frozen in place, "what are you not telling me?" 

He sighs, "I don't know."

"You can't tell  _ him _ ," Niall blurts.

He winces, grips his curls, "no."

"Because, if what you're telling me…"

He rounds on his friend, "I can't do it!" He begins, "I can't maintain a relationship-"

"Vessel."

He chokes, "I hate that term!" 

"That's what they become!! They become your shadow, dependent,  _ annoying _ ," Niall grimaces.

"And I can't handle it or the responsibility. I've had a few in my many years and it always ends the same, they  _ die _ ."

Niall shakes his head, "they die. You kill unsuspecting humans daily. What's the difference!?"

"You build a tolerance for them, become more than a stranger, you- you-" he drops his head in his hands, falls silent. He doesn't know what his heart wants, what he wants, what his twitching nerves want! He just can't do this again-

He can't let this man walk away either.

"Do you wanna  _ bed _ this person?"

He releases a deep breath, "I don't even know?"

"I wouldn't go there. It's too risky."

"Right, too risky," he groans.

"But you don't want his blood. I don't understand."

"I don't either. If I don't want that then what am I looking for?" He asks his friend.

Their gazes meet, "maybe something more." Niall says, "maybe you're looking for substance."

He shakes his head, "no, I don't want  _ any _ of that again. I want freedom."

Niall chuckles, "oh now I get it."

"What!?" He presses, "what's so fucking funny?"

"Freedom, Harry?" Niall moves in closer, whispers in his ear, "good luck with that."

He flinches, "what do you-"

"You'll never be free," Niall heads back to the couch, retrieves his discarded novel, "you're too entangled with your Maker. He'll always have that hold on you."

"And!?" He explodes, "what about you!" He points a finger.

Niall shrugs, "yeah, and now we're friends."

"We  _ are _ -"

"Not fuck buddies," Niall opens the book, finds his page, "at least you glamoured the man. You'll be saving his life."

He clears his throat, "why?"

"It'll be a similar instance you and your Maker have. Do you really want that?"

He doesn't know.

**L**

Louis dumps his keys on the counter and immediately heads to the fridge in search of a quick dinner. He's hoping Ms. Boyle, his housekeeper, went food shopping and picked up his favorite bacon, "ah…" he finds the small package on the top shelf, "fuck yeah."

He reaches for it and sets up a pan on the stove.

He starts humming to himself, ignores the shit meeting he had with his  _ client _ , and attempts to disregard the void in his chest. 

But it's widening, distracting him from  _ life _ . 

"What the fuck happened?" He mumbles to himself as he places three pieces of bacon in a pan, "Zayn and Liam had no clue." His thoughts circle, "and Simon wants a written report on the stocks' progress,  _ hourly _ , like he's my only fucking client!" He groans, flips the sizzling bacon angrily. 

He heads back to the fridge, loosens his tie, and pulls a package of rolls out. He can't stop thinking, can't take his mind away from his day or the void or a pair of  _ glowing eyes _ -

Louis drops the package, reaches for his twinging neck, "huh!?" His breathing quickens as does his heart, as does his nerves! That creeping sensation is back, the uneasiness, the confusion, "I can't-" 

He grips the counter, listens for the bacon burning on the stove, breathes past the paranoia. 

"It's okay," he reminds himself, "you're safe." He shakes his head and continues with his dinner. "You're home. The door was locked. You're safe." He swipes at his brow, removes the curled bacon, and places it onto a plate along with a soft roll. "It's fine, you jackass. Stop overthinking." His neck is tingling, borderline burning. "It was nothing." He heads to the bedroom, flicks on the light. "You're just afraid of _ nothing _ ."

But what is he fearful of? Simon's connections? The thought of being fired from his job? 

The fear of-

Louis takes a bite of his makeshift sandwich, munches on the crisp bacon, "nothing. I've got this." He reassures and empties the contents in his pockets, places his wallet, phone, and cigarettes in a neat row on his dresser, and unclasps his watch. "I'm a fucking pro. I'm paid top dollar for a reason." He hangs up his slacks and jacket in the closet, leaves the shirt on his chair for the maid and hangs his tie up behind the door. "Soon I'll be Stringer's boss!"

Maybe.

"Yeah there's nothing to fear," he says aloud and plops onto his bed with his dinner. "It's all in my head." He takes another bite, flicks on the television. "All in my-" His breath catches in his throat, his neck begins to  _ burn _ . "Ow- ow!" He drops the plate, reaches for his throbbing neck. "What the fuck- why- what are-" he blinks past the tears in his eyes and he's certain a person is standing by his window. "What the- how did you- who are you!" He swipes at his face, finds the silhouette in the corner now. 

Louis' sweating profusely, "who-" his throat closes completely, his heart is pounding! And his neck!? Forget it!

"Hi," the stranger is slowly approaching, scuffing their heels on his beautiful floor. He's groping at his neck, pushing his back into the headboard. "Bacon?" The man says, "haven't had it in years."

"Ah- y-you- there-" he chokes on his tongue. 

"I don't miss it," the man is within feet of him, "I don't miss food in general if I'm honest." 

Louis' choking on air, blinking past the tears, inching as far away as he is able to! But there's no escape! The man positioned himself between the bed and his only exit.

"I prefer something more," their voice is smooth, deep, calculated.

He whimpers, "no-" he lifts his head and finds those elongated teeth, menacing green eyes-

He cries out, screams at the top of his lungs as every memory rushes back into him like a tidal wave, including the pain in his neck, the fear, the burning, the sudden-

His crotch swells, "I…" his breathing slows, his fear ebbs away, his body comes alive. He's staring this man down, takes in his beauty, revels in his bare chest exposed beneath their black button down, the long slender, leather clad legs, the hands. "Hi." He relaxes into the headboard.

Louis' enthralled, so calm, so alive. So incredibly  _ horny _ .

"How do you feel?" The man is seated on his bed now.

He swipes the tears away, "very good."

The man has long, glossy curls framing his face that extend past his shoulders down his back. They're so lovely Louis wants to touch them, wants to feel their texture in his palm, sink his fingers into every strand. He wonders what they smell like, too. 

"Why were you crying?" 

Louis inches closer, "I don't know." The thought of being sad or frightened feels like a foreign sensation.

"You don't?" The man's lips pull into a grin.

He shakes his head, "no, I don't- where did your teeth go?" His voice is small, hushed. "Your face was menacing, your mouth distorted, you looked like a killer."

The man shakes his head, "don't worry about that."

"But I will!"

"Louis," the stranger's voice is like silk. 

It makes his crotch swell even further, "wh-what?" He's on fire. 

"I think the thought of my fangs excite you," the man motions towards his lap. "Or is it something else?"

He glances down for a moment, finds his bulge, "your chest is showing." His cheeks flush.

"So is yours and then some." 

"I…" he  _ is _ only in his boxer briefs and socks. "I was going to bed soon."

"You sleep in your underwear?"

He looks to the man, "naked actually."

They choke, "never a shirt?" 

His crotch twitches in anticipation, "never  _ anything _ ," he clarifies. "Like an invitation."

"W-well-"

He licks his lips, remembers the need to  _ kiss _ , "you bit my neck and it felt different."

Those green irises find his own, nearly suck the breath from his lungs, "h-how different?" 

"It didn't hurt- well it did but it was pleasurable and now…" they inch closer, "now I want to finish what you started." 

"I didn't start anything," the man rushes out. 

Louis chuckles, "you did. You sought me out, followed me when I went for a smoke, held me against my will, bit me." The void is gone, he feels complete. "You sucked out the venom and saved me."

"You taste horrid," the man confesses.

But he doesn't back down, "maybe."

"No maybe, your blood is sour."

"Your taste buds are sour," he jests. 

"I've tasted thousands of-" the man clamps his mouth shut.

"People?" Louis asks.

"Yes and my taste buds are just fine which could only conclude your blood is spoiled."

"Spoiled or unique?" He waggles his eyebrows.

The man shakes his head, "it's not good. End of story."

"I think…" Louis closes the distance between them, comes within inches of the  _ man _ , "you secretly enjoy it. That's why you're still here."

"Louis, don't test my patience."

His skin breaks out with gooseflesh, "I am."

"Why?" 

"I want that kiss," he leans in, puckers his lips-

He's pushed onto his back in one swift motion.

"No  _ kiss _ ," the man snaps. 

"Then why are you here?" He watches the stranger stand and begin pacing, pushes past the rejection, "you detest my blood but saved me anyway!"

"Because I made a  _ mistake _ ," the man snaps.

"A mistake?" His heart sinks, "I'm a mistake?"

"No!! I fucked up and now-" the man stops, looks to him. "Now I don't know what I want."

He sits up on his elbows, "let me help you make that decision."

"Not like- it can't-  _ fuck _ ," the man continues pacing, "this won't end well but I'm stuck, I'm already involved, I'm too close."

"What are you saying?" Louis asks, "involved in what?"

"Too close, too tempting, too enticing..."

He sits up, watches the man, "what do you want from me?"

"I don't know."

"Then leave."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Then tell me your name."

"No."

He rolls his eyes, "well I told you mine-"

"Your license did."

He flinches, "huh?" 

"I needed your address and found your wallet. I saw your name."

"Oh," he frowns. "Wonderful."

"Louis-"

"Stop! You're fucking with my libido," he groans. "You're making me horny."

"You already are."

He adjusts himself, "fuck you."

"I can't do this! You have to understand that!"

"I don't understand anything actually," he lies back down, faces the ceiling.

"It's not easy what I do or the hierarchy I have to work with, the  _ dependency _ ."

"We all have obligations," he mumbles.

"That control your  _ life _ !?"

"My job controls mine," he closes his eyes, bites at his lip, rides the high humming in his veins. "It's demanding, a fucking headache. But I deal with it, make the best of it, make the best of what I  _ fight _ for."

"I fight plenty."

"Evidently you don't because you're giving up now."

"I'm not giving up! I have no choice! If I'm caught-"

He turns over to face the window, "you're a baby."

"I'm a  _ murderer _ ."

"Then why don't you kill me? Why are you playing with  _ your food _ ?" 

"I'm…" there's a dip in the bed suddenly, an unexpected graze on his lower back.

He fights the desire to lean into the touch, "what?"

"I'm fighting against what I know is wrong," the man whispers.

"I'm so wrong," he says, his tone acerbic, "I'm so wrong that you saved me when you didn't have to. I'm so wrong that you're here now and for what? To have a chat with me?"

That hand is delicate, grazing his skin, pulling him further into this fucked up dream because certainly that's what it is?

"I haven't decided yet…" 

He licks lips, "I have."

"And?" 

He turns over, faces his predator, "kiss me." 

They knit their eyebrows, "why are you tempting me?" That hand returns.

"Why are  _ you _ tempting me?" 

"I'm just contemplating whether it's worth it."

He reaches over, finds a loose ringlet, "you won't know if you don't try."

"If I do, I'll have difficulty stopping."

"If I taste awful, that should be easy for you," he says.

"I mean-"

He tugs on that curl, watches the beauty before him, "don't stop."

"What if-"

"What if you like it?"

"What if you don't? What if you wake up regretting your decision?"

He holds their gaze steady, "I don't regret. I learn." 

"The moment we do this, your life is going to change."

He inches closer, "it already has."

"I…" Louis witnesses the fangs elongate, nearly explodes with desire, "fuck." The man whispers.

"Oh that's-" He's forced onto his back with his arms flanking his head, body left completely at this person's mercy, "do it." 

"I am," they lean down, graze his neck. "I  _ am _ ." They sniff his collar and begin searching his neckline.

**H**

This is wrong. 

He knows it's wrong yet he's here moments away from biting this human, kissing them, kissing!! And there's nothing stopping him because he gave in. Louis forced him, urged him, twitched those lovely hips, presented himself to Harry and now he's in search of his vein, running his fingers across Louis' skin. And it's a lovely moment whether he wants to admit it or not but he's enjoying this too much.

And hopefully Louis is too even though he'll regret this. If he remembers that is.

And Louis won't. He will live in confusion, probably question his emotions and inability to solve the puzzle. Harry will remove those memories when they part only to retrieve them upon their next meeting. 

It will be as if they never parted ways. It will continue on like some sick game, a twisted mind fuck Harry will have complete reign over. He is the maker and the destroyer. He will inadvertently make this human go insane. 

That's why it's wrong.

"Wh-what are you searching for?" Louis says from beneath him. His voice is directly in his ear, his breath hitting his chilled skin. He's quivering ever so slightly maybe in anticipation, maybe with fear, maybe a combination of the two.

Harry grazes his teeth along his silken skin, breathes in the mixture of cigarette smoke and sandalwood, and he's not searching at all. He's found the vein, the scar, his very own puncture wounds, he's just enjoying the heat and warmth of the body lying against him. 

But the sour taste will bring him back to the moment, maybe knock some sense into his brain, maybe force him to step away.

"You're stalling," Louis says, his tone sultry. His hips are dancing, his legs are against the bedding, his  _ hands _ now resting gently above his head as if he's completely relaxed. "Why?"

"No reason," he mumbles. His nimble fingers are moving quickly, gliding over Louis' smooth abdomen, settling at the base of his spine. Louis gasps, gyrates his hips, moans aloud towards the ceiling. 

He finds the puncture wounds once more, nips at the flesh, "oh!!" Louis gasps again with urgency. "Th-that, that-"

Blood is pumping beneath him, a heart is beating, a human is taking deep breaths, a body is alive and beckoning to him. And it's the predator hunting its prey, it's the rush he gets when stalking out his next victim. 

It's his next meal.

His desire peaks, his need reveals itself before he is able to stop or think as he strikes and it's too quick for him, preternatural, instinctual. His body takes over, the monster from within comes forth and it's fucking  _ starving _ . 

He grips Louis to his chest, ignores the whimpers and groans, and sinks into the scarred flesh. 

Blood floods his mouth instantly, overtakes his taste buds, coats his throat and burns from within. It's pooling in his stomach, sloshing about as if he were on a turbulent sea, inciting his gag reflex-

The sourness is unbearable, the putrid taste his only link to reality, his escape practically because he's already taken too much. 

Louis grips his hair, pulses his hips forward, invites him to continue, "d-don't stop!  _ Fuck _ don't-" Harry pulls away anyway, chokes past the nausea. "Kiss me! Don't leave me!" 

The excitement is palpable,  _ his _ desire is quite evident as well, but he's sickened, weak from fighting off the stench in his nostrils. He can't look past-

Louis cups his cheeks without much regard to the blood on his mouth and his fangs, and kisses him forcibly. He's momentarily stunned, taken aback actually, and holds steady without reciprocating out of fear? Shock? What!? 

His stomach is clenching, twisting, turning in on itself, awakening him from his paralysis, alerting him to the sickness creeping its way through. 

But the puffs of air pushing into his mouth make him pause, steadies the illness pooling in his abdomen, reminds him of the warmth resting just below him. It's hot.  _ They're _ hot. They're searing practically. And it feels wonderful on his skin.

He kisses back immediately.

Louis tightens his grip, wraps his legs around his torso, pulls at his lips, moans aloud. His fear dissipates as they continue, his irrational side breaks loose as thoughts of a perky ass and glorious skin come to mind. His explicit thoughts are his driving force, his need to suck ferociously at this person's mouth, his deciding factor to  _ continue _ .

He wants to bite, to claim, to  _ own _ .

And it took just a kiss, a simple touch really, and he fell too easily. He succumbed to this man with just a glance. He can't even blame the blood either. He can't blame anything except the warmth and comfort Louis is offering. 

_ More _ .  _ More _ . He needs more.

He breaks free from Louis' grasp, presses the man into the bed, admires the noises soaking into his being. Blood is smeared across his mouth, his cheeks, coating his teeth, and turning his lips a deep red. His body shivers at the sight. 

"You have blood on your mouth," Louis comments.

"So do you," he slinks a hand between their bodies, glides his palm down the center of Louis' small frame. The man shivers. "Couldn't resist?" 

Louis shakes his head, turns a deep crimson, "no." His hips dance. "I couldn't see you walk away." 

"Oh," he stops just above Louis' boxer briefs. "Why?" He mimics.

Louis grips the hem of his silk shirt, "I want your lips on me." 

"I-" he slips his hand underneath his boxers. Louis' hips thrust forward, whines aloud, tugs at his blouse. "-want my teeth  _ in _ you."

" _ Yes _ ," he hisses. "Please!" The pleading rushes straight to his groin, his hand, his willpower. 

He has to get his hands and lips on every inch he is able to reach.

**L**

Louis awoke with a start, reached for his neck, touched his chest and stomach, ran his fingers across his arms and legs as if in search of something. But what exactly?

His body is humming from overuse, his limbs tingling as if he worked out or ran or  _ what did he do? _ Why is everything fuzzy again? Why is his lower back on fire?

He turns towards his nightstand where his unfinished dinner is, the bacon and now soggy bread. He grimaces, "gross." His stomach twists. "I don't get it." He lifts the sheets, finds himself completely bare underneath. "All is in order."

His cellphone is on his dresser next to his Rolex and wallet, a half empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He looks to the chair in the corner to find his shirt, "strange."

Louis slowly moves to a sitting position and he's seeing stars suddenly, a swelling of pain in his lower back and bottom, "what the fuck!? Or who did I fuck rather!" He collapses back down, breathes through the discomfort. He's cursing himself for his drunken antics, allowing another stranger into his bed and more so his  _ rear _ . 

Will he ever learn?

**H**

"Will you ever learn!?" Niall scolds.

Harry's seated at the edge of the sofa facing the hearth. He arrived home just before dawn and Niall was there to  _ greet _ him or shout his obscenities or maybe knock some sense into his head. He certainly needs it either way.

He grips his fingers, "you'd think I would. But he was so  _ enticing _ ." He places his linked hands over his swelling crotch, bites at his lip. The way those blue irises seeped into his being, he was fucked the moment their eyes met at the bar.

"Who  _ cares _ ! The guy could have had his dick in your mouth!" -he did at some point- "If you don't want him to die, you need to  _ stay away _ ," Niall warns. "Or else  _ The Boss _ will find out and he's nasty when he's angry."

Niall hasn't a clue just how angry, too.

Harry's lived under  _ The Boss's _ scrutiny for the entirety of his undead years and some of his mortal years. But he too fell victim to the underground community, found himself in an unconventional relationship that cost him his life and now look what's become of him?

Now he hunts unsuspecting humans for sport, feeds on the next victim until the light in their eyes dull. Why seek out a vessel then? If hunting is a thrill, why even bother with a human host? 

Harry expels a breath, "I know." Was all he had because in the end, Louis was just like every other pathetic human he's encountered. His existence is insignificant compared to the number of lives Harry's taken. 

But it's such a sin to waste something so pretty and delicate.

"Then leave the guy alone," Niall concluded. He's by the doorway looking towards a sullen Harry. "Is he glamoured?"

Harry nods once, "yup."

"How well?" Niall continues. 

He looks to his  _ friend _ , "enough." 

But it wasn't. The moment Louis so much as  _ glances _ into Harry's eyes, it's broken and every memory will return, including their first meeting which did  _ not _ go as planned. Louis will always experience that frightening moment over and over as if it just happened, and remember wanting to kiss.  _ Kiss _ .

That's a problem.

Niall grunts, "asshole."

He turns away, "selfish is more like it."

"What does he see when he finds your bite marks?"

He shifts his weight, "nothing. Just his skin." His delicious, perfect skin.

"Did you bite anywhere else?" Niall presses.

"W-well-" He scrunches his eyes shut at the thought, at the memory of biting _his_ _human_. And the groan that escaped Louis' lips, the way he thrusted his hips and danced beneath him. He could cum right here. "His inner thigh." He mumbles. 

"Wonderful! You're supposed to keep it centralized-"

"Quit reading me the fucking riot act! I'm  _ your _ Maker and have been around for a century longer than you.  _ I know  _ what I have to do."

"Then act like it!" Niall begins to pace, "you have to wipe his memory if you want this to work."

Harry shakes his head, "he'll lose  _ more _ than just the memory of me!"

"What's it matter!?"

"He'll go fucking crazy! He'll _ lose _ his sanity if I fuck up!" He argues.

"Why does this person's existence _ matter _ so much!?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know…" 

**L**

"I don't know," Louis' seated at his desk with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. "I was writing up a report for Slimon and lost track of time."

"You gotta stop calling him that," Liam says. "What if Stringer walks in and catches you?"

"I'm his best broker-" Liam snorts into the receiver "-I  _ am _ . Not denying it. He'd be stupid to let me go."

"You sold a wonky stock to his most prized client. He'd can you without blinking an eye! Don't be careless."

"Whatever," he pauses a moment, types out the last sentence in his email. "Liam, where did we go last night?" He asks the dreaded question that's been weighing on his shoulders. 

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Zayn walks in, startles Louis.

He drops his phone, "oh!" It clatters to the floor.

His friend takes a seat behind his desk a few feet away, "so?"

Louis picks up his phone, tells Liam he'll see him in a few and hangs up. He turns to Zayn, "that's the problem." He begins, chooses his words carefully. "I don't remember. I woke up this morning and everything was in order including the way I leave my clothes, cigarettes, watch, wallet-" he sighs "-it was all there on my dresser." He shakes his head. "I don't know." 

"Are you forgetting things?" Zayn asks, "like, is work getting too stressful?"

He shakes his head, glances at his friend, "work is always high stress. You know that."

"Working the stock floor versus a financial advisor are two different things, Lou. You're dealing with a lot more than me and Liam."

He flops back in his chair, "maybe. But there's more." His cheeks flare at the confession he's about to reveal.

"More!?" 

"What did I miss!" Liam comes running in with coffee. His hair is brushed to the side, plastered down with so much product Louis' certain he used half the bottle.

Zayn glances at Liam, "Louis' memory loss."

Liam stops, turns to Louis. His mouth is wide open, "say what!?" He flicks his head back to Zayn, then to Louis again. "Dude, are you taking drugs?"

He rolls his eyes, "no!" 

"Let him finish," Zayn demanded. 

"Sorry."

"Uh…" Louis folds his arms across his chest, "right so when I wake up I'm-" but why is he so embarrassed? It's not like they're innocent by any means. "I'm sore." 

Liam taps his chin, "sore? How so? And more importantly, where?"

"In your arms? Legs? Are you sleeping in a funny position?" Zayn questions.

Louis shakes his head, "n-no, no not my limbs. It's, it's my lower back." He feels a twinge in his thigh. "It's like I've been up all night having sex." He says sheepishly.

"Are you?" Liam asks. 

He shrugs, feeling slightly shameful, "I don't know."

"Is your drink being roofied?" Zayn asked apprehensively.

"But what drink!? I don't know what's going on!" He wants to grip his hair but it's styled.

Liam slurps his drink, "maybe your coffee-" he nearly drops his cup. "Oh no! What if it's all of us!?"

Zayn shook his head, "why would a barista roofie Louis' drink?"

"Doesn't make sense," Louis stares ahead at nothing in particular. "I mean I've done this sort of shit before but I've always been coherent. But it's been almost two weeks-"

" _ Two _ weeks!?" Both of his friends shout in unison.

He flinches, "y-yeah. It all started after we went out to celebrate my deal with _ Simon _ ."

"The night you disappeared?" Zayn asks.

Louis nods, "it all changed…" and he was afraid to go home at night.

**H**

"Are you afraid of me?" Harry asks.

Louis shakes his head, slides his palm across his chest and stomach, makes his way south, "no." He purrs, kisses his neck and jawline. He's all over.

And Harry doesn't mind, "even when I'm about to bite you?"

"Uh-uh," he mumbles as he continues his assault on Harry's body and more so his mind. 

"Even when I'm about to do-" he grips Louis' shoulders, forces him onto his stomach spread eagle. Louis groans aloud "-this?"

_ His human _ shakes his bottom, "that's the best you can do?" His voice is muffled against the sheets.

"No," he sits on his legs and reaches for Louis' tiny wrists, extends them above his head immobilizing him. "How about now?"

Louis manages to turn his head, "you  _ bore _ me." He mocks with a devious grin. "What else ya got?" 

He leans down, places his mouth by his neck, presses himself against Louis' firm ass, "are you testing me?" 

The sigh that Louis releases makes his mouth go dry, "I'm testing your will power." He counters.

Harry places his lips on his skin, "you're a little shit you know that?" 

"When I want something, yeah. I am," he wiggles his behind again making it perfectly clear what he desires.

But Harry wants control and  _ his human _ is just taking the lead every fucking time, "is that how you're so good at work?" He teases Louis, grinds against his ass, nips at the back of his neck. Louis' trembling, anticipating,  _ begging _ . "You shake this plump bottom of yours? Steal your colleague's attention? Maybe even the attention of your  _ boss _ ?"

"N-no, no," Louis begs into the bedding. "No, I work-" his incisors elongate at the prospect of his next move. He nips at Louis' delicious skin. "-work, I work  _ hard _ -" Harry's hips move forward, _ hard _ . 

" _ How _ hard?" He whispers.

Louis' breath is audible against the bedding, "so fucking hard. I work so, so-" Harry sucks feverishly at his neck. 

He takes Louis' wrists in one hand, uses his other to grip himself, to work Louis the way he wants, "so  _ what _ ?" Harry tempts. He's so close to his end goal, so close to testing _ Louis' _ will power. 

" _ Hard _ . I work fucking hard-" he takes his opportunity and drives his hips forward, penetrates  _ his human _ the way he was asked to, obliges because he can't deny Louis. He can't deny himself pleasure either.

He can't deny it anymore.

**L**

Louis can't deny it any longer, this was the best sex he's had, the  _ most _ sex he's had, the most back breaking. But it's glorious, mind numbing, so fucking good he can't help but shout into the bedding.

He's practically anchored to the bed, helpless, begging for more and more and  _ more _ . He'll have issues in the morning but right now? Right now sitting down is the least of his worries. 

Right now he has to savor in the pleasure rippling through him from head to toe.

And there's no letting up. The man, or undead man, Louis has yet to find a reasonable explanation for all of this, especially the being bitten part, is unrelenting, using his endless supply of stamina, working him dry, using those teeth to drive him forward!

It's a heady combination, he can't think clearly! He wants to shout their name!

"I wanna-" he struggles to form a coherent thought as he's being pushed into the bedding, "I want-"

Their lips are at his ear, "wanna what?" They're not even breathless. 

If this was Louis he'd be on the floor panting, "I'm, I-" he shouts into the comforter, rides his high as his body tingles with sparks of pleasure. It's so good! "H-how- how are you-"

They pull free and he's suddenly on his back in one motion and it's going to happen. This is his favorite part. Right here! 

They grip his leg, sink down lower to the junction of his thighs where tiny little puncture wounds litter his skin. The man tried to keep it consistent, use the same two entrance points but it's  _ fine _ . He wants the markings. He wants to be theirs. He wants it to be their little secret. 

"Don't stop!" His excitement jumps at the prospect of what's to happen, the rush of euphoria, the unexpected sensations. 

They're watching him through a few loose tendrils of curls masking their face, that one single green iris boring into him almost like a predator hunting its prey. And they're hungry.

But so is he.

"Hurry!!" He whines. 

But they only slow down, graze their incisors against his inner thigh, work him further and further up towards the precipice, towards his climax, towards his relief! 

"D-don't do that! It's mean!" They nip at his leg, break skin, allow the blood to pool and slide down towards his scars, "go! Please!" He sounds so pathetic.

"Shh," they shush him. And they begin their slow descent, so agonizingly slow. 

Louis will literally burst right here, "I can't take it!"

They bite down right where his thigh meets his groin, send him off the ledge and tumbling head first into a pool of ecstacy. He's seeing stars, the galaxy, the entire fucking universe and it's never ending. He's falling fast, catapulting towards his climax and he's so close! He just needs-

They reach for his excitement next, suck at his skin and pump with their hand, give him another reason to shout out towards the sky. He wants to scream their name, thank them, do something besides falling apart from sheer pleasure. 

It doesn't last long though. How can he? How can anyone!? There's too much happening, too much for him to feel all at once. Too much he's holding within.

And he's there so suddenly it's like an explosion in his gut. He arches his back, flexes his legs, releases towards the heavens! 

He's spent.

**H**

"What's your name?" Louis asks him.

Harry shakes his head, "doesn't matter." 

"Of course it does," Louis contests. "You're lying in my bed and I don't even know what to shout when I cum all over your lovely hair." 

He snorts, "what, you've never had a one night stand? Fucked some douchebag from the bar for fun?"

Louis sits up on his elbow, faces him, "too many I can't remember. But last I checked, you've been in my bed more than once."

Harry will never relent and give up his one secret. It'll be too much. It'll give Lou more control than he already has, "I'm the exception."

Louis grunts, "but there are  _ no _ exceptions, you fiend."

Harry glances over at him and he's dumbstruck. Louis' lying on his side completely naked displaying his bare chest and stomach, his entire body, Harry's bite marks, everything. He never wants to leave this bed if it means he could potentially wake up to this lovely man every day.

"I  _ am _ the exception, Louis. So no, I will not share my name," he says, his tone direct. 

Louis huffs, flops on his back, "then you're not allowed back-" he sits up, his motion both unnatural and probably a blur to Louis, tackles the man to the bed. But he's unfazed by his brashness. "What are you gonna do  _ now _ , huh?" Louis flexes his hips, bites at his lips, entices.

"Make you change your mind about not wanting me back."

Louis bats his lashes, "pick an orifice."

"You're such a menace," he lowers himself down. "Why aren't you scared?"

"I said I wasn't afraid, so stop trying," he whispers.

"You should be."

**L**

"What happened to you?" Liam asks as Louis enters the office.

He's gripping two large coffees, his hair was an afterthought, his tie is looped around his neck and shirt half buttoned. He awoke with such a pain in his rear, he thought his colon was going to fall out, contemplated seeing a doctor for his discomfort, and cried because he was so confused. He found blood on his sheets, too.  _ Blood _ . 

He stops before his chair, groans, "oh no." 

"Lou-"

"It happened again," he puts his coffees down, empties his pockets, and begins fixing his shirt before Stringer pops his head in unexpectedly.

"It did?" Liam asks astonishingly.

"Yes!" His eyes are watering at the thought of sitting down. The ride over was so bad, he had to bite his tongue when he hit a bump to distract him from the pain, "yes it did and it's so much worse than before."

"Woah, dude," his friend cautiously approaches. 

Louis shakes his head, wills his tears to go away, "I don't even want to go home!" He gives up on the buttons when his fingers begin to shake.

"Are you sure you're not drinking before bed? Maybe you're calling a past fling? Asking them to come over?"

He stamps his foot, "no! No one is coming over-"

"Let's check your call history," Liam reaches for his cellphone.

But he becomes defensive, "what? Why?" His friend takes it. "Hey wait!"

Liam turns away with the phone, "hmm…"

"Morning," Zayn walks in then. "What happened to you?" He says to Louis.

"That bad?" He mumbles.

Zayn puts his backpack down next to his chair, "you look like shit." 

Liam turns around wide eyed with Louis' phone in hand, "um…"

"What is it?" Louis feels a sickening sensation in his stomach, "is it worse? Who did I call? How many did I call!?" Oh God how many men did he accidentally fuck? Or fucked him evidently.

"Hot Luke," Liam hesitates. "Every night since the bar outing."

At least it's only the one.

Louis' ears begin to ring, " _ what _ !? I don't remember!" He denies vehemently, reaches for his phone and finds the call log. "Oh my God!!" He flops into his chair, cries out the moment he makes contact. "Ugh! This has to stop!"

"So you're either getting plastered or it's stress," Zayn concludes. 

Louis shakes his head, "b-but, but can stress do that?" He drops his phone on the desk, "I'm used to this sort of thing."

Liam shakes his head, "you're working later than usual because of Slimon-  _ Simon _ . Now you got me saying that stupid nickname!"

"That's right!" Zayn adds. He's searching his own phone for who knows what, "that deal has caused you nothing but anxiety so maybe you're experiencing dissociative amnesia. It's caused by severe stress." He turns his phone towards Louis to show his screen with the definition, symptoms, and treatment options.

But he only glances at it because he doesn't believe it's work, "this is ridiculous. I've always been stressed out! Especially from this job! But I deal with it, we all do! We just drink a few beers and move on!" 

He looks at his phone again in disbelief from the endless calls to Luke, or Hot Luke, the tall gentleman Louis  _ befriended _ at a week long conference last year. He's also a stock broker so they had a lot in common including losing all inhibitions in the bedroom. They spent every waking second together until they were both too sore to perform. By the end of the week, Luke couldn't walk straight.

Including Louis.

"I think it is. Do you want me to take over for a few days?" Liam offers, "I'll be sure to email you the details before I send them to Sli-  _ Simon _ !!" He holds his head. "I gotta stop!"

Louis looks between his friends, "I don't know. I can't let Stringer find out!"

"I think it's a good idea, too," Zayn says. "We can do the reporting so that's one less thing on your plate."

"And you can do the meetings with Stringer and Cowbell," Liam said. "Good?"

He nods, "yeah. I suppose."

"Now go button your shirt, you look like shit."

**H**

Harry is buttoning up a silky black tailored blouse when a knock disrupts him. He rolls his eyes in exasperation. He's in a hurry and has to intercept Louis before he gets home, not worry about unwelcome  _ visitors _ .

"Go away-" he starts at the hand slapping his ass, "what the  _ fuck _ ?" He snaps and turns towards the person behind him, finds two black pits staring back at him.  _ The Boss _ . 

Well, there's no escape now.

And he wanted to slip out before he was caught but it's been too many nights Harry's been  _ unavailable _ . This meeting was inevitable. Silly of him to think otherwise, "Xander." Harry manages a small smile. "Looking a little famished." 

And he was. The eyes are a dead giveaway, no pun intended, and the sickly pallor. But why not hunt down his many vessels or the humans circling their block? Harry's certain they'd willingly offer a vein free of charge.

But he's fully aware what  _ The Boss _ longs for and it begins with the letter H. And it's not humans.

Xander's incisors elongate, "I think you know what it is I'm craving."

Harry plays along, humors the man. He even pops out his hip for effect, "I may have an inkling." 

"If you did" -he's groped once more- "why do you never join me for a night cap?"

He thinks on the fly, manages to make an excuse for his actions, "I'm working on a new vessel." He grimaces at the term. "So I've been preoccupied. You know how finicky and demanding they can be."

Xander closes the distance between them, continues to keep a possessive hold on his bottom, "I do. And I remember you being the same, if not the most difficult to-" he squeezes his fingers, makes Harry collapse into him "-control." 

This wasn't what he had in mind.

"I wasn't  _ difficult _ per se," he grins again in hopes of wrapping up this conversation. "I was very much aware of what I wanted and that was  _ you _ ." He pouts. "You always played hard to get."

Xander smiles wide, proudly, "you were fucking annoying. But there was something I enjoyed."  _ Another squeeze _ . "And still do."

There goes his quick getaway. He masks his frown, reaches for his Maker's cheeks and leaves a feather light kiss on his lips, "I think I was your greatest catch yet."

There was a third squeeze and this time Xander meant it. He wants Harry for the night. 

And there was no escape.

**L**

Louis made it home a little after nine. 

Stringer had him in his office well into the evening and after the overnight team arrived. They were discussing the future of the stock Cowell purchased, the projected numbers Louis fabricated to make his deal seem legit. It was becoming more of a shit show than he intended but that's what he should have expected. 

He practically collapses into a stool at the island, buries his head in his hands, recounts the evening with his boss. Louis glanced at his wrists just as Liam and Zayn instructed him to do those few weeks ago and yeah they were totally wrong. Nothing was there, even on his wrist with his watch. It was just veins and skin.

"Jackasses," he concludes. "They're just trying to scare me." 

But then he remembers that new woman who joined them right before he was about to leave. Eleanor? She was tall, very slim, a little pale but it went well with her blood red lipstick and red pant suit. Her nails were also painted red. Everything was  _ red _ down to her pumps. Her presence was menacing and her eyes a whole other level of creepy. It made him squirm. 

It made his thigh and neck burn, too.

It was an awkward first meeting and Louis could swear she was checking him closely, looking for something actually. But she came up empty handed and he left as quickly and she came.

He finally manages to make it to the fridge, reaches for two hard boiled eggs and string cheese. The maid cooked him some meatless concoction and yeah, he'll pass. He's too anxious to eat a large meal anyway.

Even though it appears he's been staying away from unrestrained sex the last few days, he's still afraid of his stress level, fears his friends may be right that he's forgetting certain things. But why would he call Luke? Out of every man? Sure he's gorgeous but Louis' called him every  _ night _ for how many weeks? And the guy kept coming!? They haven't spoken in  _ how long _ !?

Where's the used condoms? Where's the lube stains on his bedding? There's only blood which freaks him the fuck out because what toys are they using or is that Luke? Is Louis making _ him _ bleed? There's no traces of that man being here. It doesn't add up. Nothing does. 

Except Louis' ass because it's usually on fire.

Louis begins biting at the string cheese, loosens his tie, "what a day," he kicks off his boots next. The look in that woman's eyes is haunting him, their lack of life making him pause. It was a dead stare, almost like gazing at a dead body with its eyes open except they weren't murky or gray. They were striking, chilling to the bone,  _ cold _ . That's it. It was a cold stare.

Louis rubs at his arms, quickly shoves the rest of the cheese in his mouth. He secretly prays he never has to see her or be trapped under her scrutiny again. He was certain he stopped breathing for the five minutes she  _ examined _ him. He feels dirty if he's honest.

He empties the contents in his pockets, places everything on his dresser in a neat row, unclasps his Rolex.

He then carefully takes off his suit, hangs his slacks and jacket in the closet, throws his button down on the chair in the corner, and hooks his tie up behind the door. 

Everything in order. 

"Okay," he flops into bed with his hard-boiled eggs. "I wonder if that house flip show is on-" a gust of wind blows through the room suddenly the force nearly pushing him off the bed! "It wasn't supposed to rain tonight!" He turns to the window and it's a shadow! It's a man!? "Wh-what, what- how did you-" he can't breathe, he can't form a coherent thought, he's petrified, he's frozen in place!  _ This can't be Luke!! _

His inner thigh begins to burn and itch and his neck-

He cries out into the dimly lit room, holds himself as the discomfort spreads throughout his body. He wants to run and scream, he wants to free himself from this paralysis! 

They begin to steadily approach, their footfalls creaking against the floorboards, their movements graceful yet terrifying. Their head is hung low, loose tendrils of curls are masking their features, their hands are in tight fists at their sides. 

Louis' throat is clamped shut, his gaze fixated on this human invading his home because this  _ isn't Luke! _ Louis did  _ not _ call him today! Liam and Zayn could vouch for that.

This is someone else!

Then their head tilts up revealing nearly translucent skin and a sunken cheek. Their lips are cracked and oozing a thick  _ black _ substance that's dripping down their chin and onto a wrinkled blouse. It's torn in the front, exposing a white chest covered in scratches and  _ bite marks _ just underneath. The wounds are also seeping a black liquid.

They're covered, including their arms and wrists, wound after wound, scratches, and deep welts burning red against their pale skin. 

Louis can get a small glimpse of their torso through the slashed silk and it's the same. More scratches, more welts, more  _ blood _ ? What is that!

More importantly _ who _ is this!

"O-oh, oh my fucking God," he squeaks. "Who- what- how?" He glances at their leather clad legs, the material also torn around their upper thigh, a large slit from the top of his leg to his knee.

_More black_ _liquid._

"It's rude," it's a man!? "To  _ stare _ ." Their voice is distorted, animalistic, gutteral. 

_ He _ lifts his head, reveals a black pit for an eye-

**H**

Louis screams instantaneously, rattles the picture frames and artwork hung on the walls, the echoing of his fear reverberating through Harry like a bullet. 

He eventually collapses to the floor, continues to scream and begins scratching at his neck, then his thigh, thrashes about as if to fight off someone-  _ Harry _ . The moaning comes next, then hushed whimpers, tears too. He's going through every emotion, every event in a matter of seconds. This could kill him eventually if it becomes too much for him. 

He'll go insane, have a heart attack! And for what? Harry's need to be with him?

Louis' silent then, calm, and just staring at Harry in fear with wide doe eyes and tear stained cheeks.

Harry's fully aware of his ghastly appearance and even more so of the wounds littering his skin. Or maybe it's the eyes?  _ Definitely the eyes _ . It's the only feature that remained after he was turned so the black is certainly a stark contrast against the paleness of his skin.

But he's  _ starving,  _ so weak from being with  _ The Boss _ , the countless hours of intimacy, and lack of nourishment. He's lucky he found the strength to come here but he needed his human.  _ His human _ . Funny. He should have considered finding  _ dinner _ on the way over but he's craving something else.

Even though the taste is dreadful.

"Louis," his voice hurts his own ears, he can only imagine what Louis' thinking.

"Wh-what- what-" 

Even un-glamoured Harry is still monstrous, but he moves forward, inches closer to Louis in search of a vein,  _ the  _ vein,  _ any _ vein! The starvation is biting at his taste buds, consuming him whole, becoming such a distraction he can only  _ hear _ the blood coursing through Louis' limbs and the heart pumping, and not his pleas.

He extends his hands out, and grips Louis' arms, pulls him up and onto the bed flat on his back. He's debating finding a new, less intrusive area of Louis' body to  _ taste _ from but to blemish this delectable skin would be a sin. Even the back of his upper thigh or his lower back. His  _ ass _ -

"Why do you look like that!?" Louis' fighting against him to no avail. 

Harry's weakened state is still far superior compared to a regular human's strength. He's unstoppable. So he continues on without a word, removes Louis' boxer briefs.

"Hey!!" 

He reveals much more than the puncture wounds, "always so excited to see me."

"I  _ am _ but-"

"And even now," he lowers his head, finds his own excitement springs to life beneath his torn pants. His incisors elongate from the rush of blood in Louis' veins. It's all too much and he's famished! 

"W-wait but, but you're-"

His fangs break skin and it's all over. He's trapped from his lack of nourishment, from the nights spent in  _ The Boss's _ bed, from being used, from being  _ trapped _ . He pulls at Louis' flesh, ignores the bitterness as it hits his tongue and the taste is still disgusting, so sour.

He wants to vomit.

He continues on anyway, loses himself as his body hums with strength, ignores the fact that Louis is  _ not _ enjoying this in the least but  _ his human _ has to understand! He's nearly there, too just a few more pulls and he's almost there!

But Louis goes limp in his arms. 

"Fuck," Harry lifts his head, checks his now nearly flawless arm and wrist. "Oh good-" Louis' passed out and rather pale, actually _ very _ pale. His lips are bright red as if he was biting at them but that's it. He's stark white. "Fuck!" His breathing is shallow. "Louis?" Harry shakes him. "Louis!!" And again! "Answer me!" 

_ Oh no. No! No! No! _

"Louis!"

**L**

Louis jolts awake, pushes at whatever is holding him prisoner. He's dead weight, his forehead is covered in sweat, his mouth is dry. His thigh is on  _ fire _ , too, the worst its ever felt, even more than before. His neck-

Everything.

This is wrong. What happened?

He was in his room, got undressed, and was just about to eat the rest of his dinner when he saw something. He  _ saw _ a figure in the corner of his room. A half dead figure with a sickly pallor, ripped clothing, and oozing cuts and scars across their torso and arms. 

"Oh God!" he pushes up again only to be stopped by a weight? A hand? What is that! 

Is he dreaming!?

"Louis?" The voice is so smooth and warming, lethal. "Are you okay?" 

"No! No, I'm not okay!" Louis attempts to sit up again but he's trapped. "Let me go!!" He begins flailing his arms and legs in an attempt for freedom.

"Not until you open your eyes!" That voice is so convincing but there's an edge to it, a lie and they're holding Louis prisoner!

"Get offa me!" He has to wake up! He has to!! 

"It'll be better if you opened _ your eyes _ , Louis!"

"Stop saying my name!" He pushes and flails and squirms and  _ he can't free himself _ ! "Wake up! Wake! Up!!" He shouts towards the ceiling. "Who are you? What are you doing to me!?"

" _ Nothing _ , just open your fucking eyes!" 

"Yes you are!" His eyes are cinched shut, "you roofie my drink! You call Luke-" he's pinched in the abdomen, the stinging forcing his eyes to flutter open and it's gruesome. The face in his field of vision is covered in red, their chin dripping with blood, their mouth crimson, their teeth- he cries out, pushes and pushes and cries some more.

He looks up into his captor's eyes-

**H**

"He believes I roofie his drink," Harry's on the verge of laughing aloud. It's the most ridiculous conclusion he's heard to date! And he's been around for a bit. "And he finally looked at his phone, saw I was calling some dude named Hot Luke." He snorts.

But Niall isn't amused, "so he remembers?"

Harry shakes his head, "of course not-"

"But he does!" Niall begins to pace, "he's putting two and two together! He knows something is wrong!"

"I've glamoured him-" Harry attempts to argue.

"Stop sleeping with him!" Niall shouts.

"Sleeping with who?" They both look to the doorway, find the meddlesome brunette Xander turned a few decades ago. Harry believes her name is Evelyn? Elaine? "Are we talking about the guy Harry's screwing?" Something with an E.

"Eleanor-" oh that's right.

All the humor drains from Harry's features, "how did you know?" 

She grins, folds her arms across her chest, "I saw him or should I say smelled him." She wrinkles her nose. "Not my cup of tea."

"Where?" He hides his unease. "And how did you know-"

"I smelled you, too," she points a red nail towards him.

But he remains neutral, "okay."

"Where did you see him?" Niall questions.

"My office," she confirms. "He's my boss's pet and the kid thinks he's got the man wrapped around his finger!"

"How so?" Harry probes, "isn't he some big shot stock broker?"

"Yeah but-"

Niall grunts, "we need to glamour him!" He shouts, startling them both. 

"He looked at me as if he could sense something was off, reached for his neck then his leg," she recounts. "Did a shit job if you did glamour him. He shouldn't feel any discomfort, especially where you feed from."

"I'm fully aware," his anger is surfacing. "So quit acting like I didn't take precautions because I did."

"Something tells me you didn't try hard enough!" Niall contests.

He rounds on his so called friend, "shut it! I can't just wipe his memory clean. He will lose more than the memory of me if I fuck up. He'll lose everything from that night I found him in the bar. It's too much!" 

"He's going to find out if you don't take care of it now and the longer you wait the worse off he'll be," Niall says, his voice grave.

But Harry believes it's already too late.

**L**

Louis was running significantly late. He overslept, his bed sheets were bloodied from a cut on his hand he had no idea how he got but that created an even bigger mess. His maid forgot to pick up his laundry so he was stuck wearing a turtleneck and ugh! Ties are part of the dress code at work! Stringer will certainly have his head now.

He just couldn't win. 

"Woah and what happened to you?" Liam asks the moment Louis enters their office. 

He's so flustered he nearly drops his coffee down the front of his shirt, "everything!" He's sore again. He was good the past week and magically he's having issues once more. 

Zayn is at his desk too, watching him curiously, "why do you have a bandage on your hand?"

He empties his pockets, realizes his cigarettes are at home, "damn it!!" Now he has to go downstairs and pick up a pack or two or ten! But he doesn't have time! He's meeting Stringer and Cowell in an hour! He grips his styled hair, huffs in frustration. "Shit, shit, shit!!" He's frantic!

"Woah! Slow down there!" It's Zayn. He holds him steady, "take a deep breath."

Louis' practically hyperventilating, the thought of fucking up this meeting is weighing on him and it's not good. He's not good. He's tired! "I can't!" He practically shouts. "I can't. I can't. I can't!!" 

He nearly collapses into his friend, "holy shit, dude. Sit down." 

Louis' forced down in his chair, the contact blinding him with discomfort but his emotional state is far worse. He's crumbling and he doesn't know why, "what's happening to me?" 

Liam approaches then too, "I don't…" he falls silent, eyes Louis curiously.

Zayn still has a firm grip on his shoulder, "take a few deep breaths."

But he's hysterical, "it's, it's so- how? How is this happening? Why am I so confused?" 

Liam stands abruptly, "I have to go to the bathroom. Be right back," he swiftly leaves.

Louis frowns, watches his friend walk away, "did I freak him out?"

Zayn shakes his head, "no." He focuses on Louis, watches him closely. "What happened?"

Tears are blurring his vision, the thought of those black eyes and dried blood is clear in his thoughts, "Zayn. I see dead people."

"What?" He drops his hands, stares into Louis' glassy eyes, "what are you in the Sixth Sense? Because I'm sure I'm alive."

He shakes his head, "it has to be true. I saw something last night-" but just as quick as he felt it, thought about it, paid it any mind, it vanishes. The memory slips away. 

Zayn presses, "saw what?"

"I saw- wait…" his mouth is dry. "Wait a second. But I-" he cradles his head. "I'm fucking losing it."

"You need to go home."

"No!!" He snaps, "I have that meeting. I can't miss it!"

"Louis! Evidently something is going on and I think it's the job! You need to take a few days off! You'll feel so much better."

He shakes his head, "no. No, Zayn. I need to prove to them that I've got this, that I'm in control! I can't lose this deal!"

"You'll go insane!" Zayn counters, "look at you! You're pale, your hair is a mess now, you're not in proper attire. You are not sleeping! Forgetting things?"

"I know! I know but…" he relents, "I need to go home and sleep."

"You do, Lou. You're useless like this."

He swipes his eyes, "fuck you."

"You know it so stop and go home," Zayn helps him up.

"What will I tell Stringer?" Louis begins stuffing his pockets with his shit.

"You went home sick. End of story," Zayn shrugs.

"He'll have my head," Louis takes his coffee, chugs its contents. 

Zayn rolls his eyes, "no. He needs his workers well and not infecting others with a stomach bug." The lie is convincing.

"Oh," Louis is that pale? 

"Just walk by his office. He won't say anything more," Zayn assures.

"If…" Louis eyes his friend, "if you insist."

The moment he got home he shed his clothing, left everything on the floor without a care and went to the guest room to sleep. He can't be bothered with his phone or with food or with anything. He needs sleep.

And he did just that.

He awoke with a start a few hours later forgetting where he decided to take a nap, emerged from the room in search of food, found the maid, Ms. Boyle, in the kitchen humming a tune to herself. Thankfully he decided to leave his boxers on.

"Hi," he scratches at his bare tummy. He spots his phone on the counter next to his wallet and lighter.

"Oh! My dear," she turns around with a grin, her pinched features reminding Louis of someone who sucked on a lemon. "Are you feeling under the weather?" 

He sits at the island, reaches for his phone, "yeah. I haven't been well for a bit." He has nearly one hundred unread emails, four missed calls and a few texts. "Hmm…" His attention is piqued at this one particular message. It's from Stanley. He replies with a Fuck yeah. See you tonight and disregards the rest.

"Here you go, dear. Vegetable and tofu soup for the overworked soul!" 

He flinches when a massive bowl is placed before him, "oh." He clears his throat. "That's a lot."

She smacks her lips together, "absolutely not. You need some protein for those frail bones!" She points.

He sighs, "I don't know."

"You're not getting up from that chair until I see the bottom of that bowl," she demands. She's a force that can't be reckoned with. So he just nods once and begins slurping at the broth.

**H**

Harry arrives at the house and finds Louis' car in the driveway. But what also catches his eye, is the other car parked out front on the street. Who could it be? It wasn't the maid, he was sure. 

He makes his way up the drive towards the side entrance, pulls a spare key he made weeks ago from his back pocket but the lights are on, "shit." He stands against the house, his back up against the siding. 

He listens intently, hears a commotion inside, hears giggling? Panting? What?

He rushes to the backyard, avoids the motion light, and maneuvers around the fence. He's in all black as usual but if Louis has nosy neighbors, he'll have some heavy glamouring to do. 

But luckily he reaches Louis' window without any issues and it's dark, very dark. He's nearly convinced no one is in the room but once his eyes adjust, it all comes full circle.

There two figures on the bed, one on top of the other, one moaning, the other moving their hips. Then they kiss and tumble across the mattress. More thrusting. More moaning. More kissing!

His face falls at the sight, "you're mine." But Louis wasn't his.

Especially after their last meeting, especially the way Louis reacted when he saw his weakened state, his paleness and gruesome features. He's probably petrified of Harry, so sickened he's sure he fucked up. How could he be so careless? He could have killed him! The one thing he is trying to avoid!

And it was pure luck that he managed to rouse Louis from his black out, pumped his chest to keep his heart going and blood flowing. Harry didn't even think twice about saving him. It was instinctual.

But what still confused him, when Louis came to, he was glamoured. That's something he can't explain.

He backs away from the window feeling sorry, "no. You can't feel anything. He's not yours." He scolds himself. 

If he wants Louis to survive, maybe it's best he walk away.

A couple of hours later, Harry found himself outside his friend's office door at the hospital, more specifically the blood bank. He was having a moment on the way over, considered possibly trying something new in terms of where his food source came from. Maybe all of these deaths are more than he can handle, maybe seeing the life leave Louis' body stirred something within him, maybe he's feeling more alive than he ever felt before.

It was certainly a moment and a frightening one at that.

"Hey," she greets, let's him into the small lab.

"Hi Sarah," he sits opposite her at her desk. 

"Haven't seen you in a bit. How have you been?" She asks. 

Sarah is also part of the underground community, someone Harry met maybe a half a century ago at another hospital across town. Sarah works her way through the various clinics in and around the city so as not to expose herself, lives an almost normal life. She even vowed to remain with her vessel who she ended up marrying and he was turned when he was ready to make the change. 

Harry was there to help Sarah and more so her newly turned husband in return for her trying to save a man he was in a relationship with that ended up dying from blood loss. He never mentioned them to anyone including Niall, Sarah's husband, in fear of his reaction. It's what basically changed his mind about maintaining a relationship with a human. He swore against it, yet here he is. In the same predicament. 

He almost killed Louis and now he's lost.

"Been you know-" he shrugs "-getting by."

"Found someone new?" Her intuition is frightening.

He grins half-heartedly, "I don't know." And it's the truth.

"You don't know? Or you do and you're just afraid to admit to it?"

He looks down to his linked fingers, "I'm afraid to admit to it."

"I guess I'll take my break now."

He glances at her and she's already watching him, "oh I'll leave-"

She grins, "you're coming and filling me in on this new vessel of yours. And you can tell me what's going on with Niall. I haven't seen him either."

"You're married to him. Why not come by?" They both stand.

"He's been driving me up the wall. I need the separation," she clarifies.

"Oh," he shrugs. "Alright well, lead the way."

**L**

Louis had a banging weekend, every pun intended, only left his room to retrieve a pizza from the delivery boy on Saturday evening and that's it. He may have snuck to the refrigerator for a snack or two and maybe a beer but he was too preoccupied for anything else, with someone else.

He felt sorry for Ms. Boyle.

He was walking into work feeling refreshed, feeling better then he had in such a long time he forgot what normal was. But he was ready for anything.

He was ready to kick ass!

"Good morning, turds!" He strides past his two friends with his chin held high.

"Morning, have a good weekend?" Liam asks but he seems distracted. His head is down 

"Did you hurt your leg?" Zayn adds who's also avoiding eye contact.

But Louis grins anyway, takes his notebook out from his desk, "nope." He sits down, winces slightly but remembers this was on his terms and he had a grand ole time.

"Got it. Who did you have over?" Zayn's expression is sullen. 

"Well I actually got a text-"

"Did he notice your neck?" Liam questions.

His friends sound off, annoyed maybe? He touches it, feeling self conscious all of a sudden. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, maybe some hickies but his shirt's collar covers it. He made sure Stanley was low enough.

He looks between Zayn and Liam and they're sharing a knowing look now, "what? What did I miss?" His good mood is gone. "Did we make plans? Did I manage to fuck up?"

Liam takes a sip from his coffee, "I saw something, Louis. The other day before you left."

His face feels warm, "wh-what was-"

"And it made me realize what's happening," Liam's voice is grave. His head is down still but it gives Louis reason enough to realize this is serious.

He looks to Zayn and is met with the top of his head, "you're killing me. What happened?"

Liam sighs, looks to their friend before continuing, "you're-"

"You're a vessel," Zayn deadpans.

And Louis nearly collapses to the floor, "what!?" He touches his neck again. "But I don't- there's nothing!"

"It's there, Lou," Liam can't hide his discomfort. "I saw it as clear as day that's why I left the room. I couldn't keep it together. There's an oval shaped welt on your neck. It's from-"

"There's nothing there!!" Louis contests, "nothing! I stare at my reflection every day and I see my skin not a welt!" He's angry, he's pissed, he's so fucking scared he doesn't realize he's crying. "I don't see it! I swear I don't know. I didn't know. I didn't even feel-"

Stringer is at the door then in the middle of Louis' breakdown, pops his head in, "hello, hello!" His voice is always high pitched and whiny.

Louis nearly vomits all over his desk, "good morning." He manages. He swiftly dries his face. "What's up?"

"Simon is here to review your latest email."

"Oh," he immediately straightens in his chair, adjusts his tie. "Sure I mean I'll gladly meet with him."

"Alright, alright!" Stringer says in a sing-song voice. 

"Meet you in fifteen?" Louis asks.

"You betcha!" He leaves their office and there's tension between the three of them.

He's never felt this alone, this afraid, this unsure! How could he let this happen? When did he let his guard down? Why didn't he stop it!?

"We know you have questions," Zayn starts. "And I want to share everything we know-"

"But why can't I see anything?" He's crying into his hands having lost his composure. "Why am I blind to it? Is it because I don't think it's real? Because I'm willing it to be false?"

Liam finishes off his coffee, "it kept me awake all weekend because why do Zayn and I see it and you don't? You can't see the marks on Stringer's wrists, but it's so obvious to us?"

Zayn spoke up then, "then I remembered something Liam and I both saw one night coming back from-" he turns to Liam "-the Halloween party?" Liam nods and Zayn turns back to a pale faced Louis. "You wandered off with some shithead so we decided to head home and that's when we saw it."

Louis gathers his notebook and fountain pen, disregards the shithead comment. He's still tearing up but he has to calm himself, maybe stop off at the bathroom and splash his face with water.

"We thought two people were kissing!" Liam takes over, "there was blood but everyone was in costume! So we thought it was fake!" Is he crying now? 

"We didn't help her," Zayn adds regretfully. "And we should have damn it. We should have known the difference!"

Louis' frozen in place, "what are you telling me?"

"We witnessed the act, Lou. We're no longer blind to it. We weren't caught!" Zayn informs.

But he's still confused, "blind to what?"

"Vampires," Liam whispers. "She was attacked by a vampire."

His tears dry up instantly because that's ridiculous, "vampires?" He spits. He wants to laugh aloud, cackle so even Simon could hear him. "Are you fucking joking? Because this isn't funny!!" 

"Eleanor is one!" Zayn informs, "she's feeding off of Stringer! He's her vessel! She works at night because of the sun!"

Louis' anger is surfacing, making his hands shake, "you guys are making a mockery of me you know that? And why? Why are you lying? Why are you doing this!?" He heads to the door feeling at a loss, feeling slighted by his own two friends.

"We're not! Why would we lie about this!?" Liam defends, "it's true!"

He turns on them, "I don't know! Why don't you ask yourselves that same fucking question!" He storms out as quickly as he is able.

**H**

Harry's outside Louis' house. He's hesitant this time around, fears he might see Louis fucking some other dude again, for the third time. It went on all weekend too. Not just the one night he went to Sarah and spilled his heart out to her. Harry came back the following two nights to find Louis with the same dude which now he knows is Stanley from all the screaming he did.

At one point, Hot Luke was there, too. Joining in on the...party.

It made him so jealous, if he could cry tears, he would, but blood is messy so he refrained. And this just brings him back to his first undead relationship. The only other man he was fond of, he would have turned him if he were able, just like Sarah.

But Mitch didn't want it. He wanted to live out his life even if it meant leaving Harry completely alone and heartbroken. But it didn't last much longer anyway, The Boss found out and he did the unthinkable and driven by his insanity entrapped Harry to the point of starvation, to where he was completely incoherent and unable to recognize even himself.

In the end, Mitch lost too much blood at Harry's hand and that was the end of it. The end of his trust, the end of Harry's need to be around Xander anymore.

He'll leave for good. Eventually. When he's strong enough. He'll find a way. But right now he has to fix things with Louis, he has to taste him, feel him. He just wants to feel his warmth against his cold skin one last time.

Louis' Mustang isn't in the driveway yet, and there's no other car in sight, so he lets himself in and heads to the bedroom, finds it completely clean and orderly. The maid was in, tidied up the mess Louis made over the weekend and changed the sheets.

But she left early it seems which disappoints him. 

Harry enjoyed speaking with Ms. Boyle, the retired Opera singer, found he was comfortable discussing he and Louis' unorthodox arrangement with her. It gave him a different perspective, the living perspective, reminded him how much he misses having a connection with someone else. She made it sound like it wasn't an omen but something organic and beautiful. He meant to glamour her but she knew about his kind already and completely supported their relationship. Or whatever the fuck it was.

Too bad it wouldn't continue after tonight.

He sits on Louis' bed, touches a pillow, wrinkles his nose as Stanley's stink floods his nose. He just wants Louis' scent in his thoughts, not this other guy. 

He hears the rumbling of the Mustang in the drive soon enough, the slam of the car door, the footfalls. Harry takes his position under the bed just like a childhood nightmare. The monster awaits.

Louis' sobs are audible the moment he enters the house, the now uneven clattering of his shoes on the floor. He wasn't okay. Not at all.

**L**

Louis is not okay. After his fucked up conversation with his friends, Stringer and Slime Ball Cowbell pulled the rug out from underneath him, informed him his latest reports were not as detailed as they needed them to be and didn't provide enough back up for the numbers he gave. In the end, they took the portfolio away from him, gave it to Eleanor who was more in tune to what Cowbell wanted. 

He was already pissed off at Liam and Zayn and there they go fucking up his deal! He shouts into the empty house, disregards his burning leg and neck, grips a barstool and tosses it over, is about to throw his phone when his hand is stopped midair.

He swiftly turns around, finds a tall man with curly hair, green eyes- 

Louis collapses to the floor and immediately feels an onslaught of emotions, pain, fear, longing, ecstacy, happiness all rolled into one. It's too much for his heart to handle, his mind, his well-being! 

He's eventually picked up and carried to the bedroom, his clothes swiftly removed from him, enveloped in a cold embrace. He needed the relief, the familiar touch, the strength. 

But now Louis knows. He knows what this man is especially after what Zayn and Liam told him. They exist. 

And he should be so afraid, he felt the pain, he suffered through the fear, he was alone! He can't deny it anymore. He's fucking pissed. He wasn't even given a choice.

And he doesn't know the dude's name.

Louis' fights their hold, "get off!"

The man immediately releases his grip, "I'm sorry."

He points a finger, "you're fucking with me." He begins but the man remains inscrutable. "You're messing with me somehow, making me forget all of this, you're toying with my memories!!"

The man cracks a small smile, "or using roofies to drug you?"

Louis is seeing red, "do you think this is some twisted game!? Because it's not! This is my life you're screwing around with and I don't appreciate it."

They tuck a stray curl behind their ear, clasp their hands, "it's not something many people know about. I have to protect myself." 

"Why make me forget you? What if I want to remember this when it's all said and done? What if I'm not ashamed of it? What if I don't like it, huh?" 

The man remains silent.

"You're robbing the choice from me like it doesn't matter. But it does. It matters because now I'm forced to forget you exist and act like a total asshole to my friends who confessed to what they know," Louis drops his arm. "I'm your vessel." 

They shift uncomfortably on the bed, divert their gaze to the floor, "I hate that term."

"Oh who the fuck cares what you hate! You completely robbed me of my freedom of choice! You made me question my sanity!"

"You're not fully glamoured that's why," the man's tone is hushed, apologetic even. He's hiding something. "I came here tonight to make you forget me completely."

Louis practically loses it right then and there, has a sudden desire to beat the shit out of this vampire but he knows he doesn't stand a chance. It's hopeless. He's hopeless.

"No!" Is all he could come up with, "no! No! No! You can't do that!"

They shake their head, turn away, "I can and I will. I have to."

He rubs at his face, "but why!? Why make me walk around not knowing you exist? What if I want to remember you? What if I enjoy what we had-"

"We didn't have anything, Louis. I just needed your blood even though you taste horrible."

**H**

Harry has to do this. He has to listen to Sarah's advice, Niall's too. Harry has to wipe his memory clean. Louis can't know about them especially if he wants him to survive.

He looks to Louis and he's pale, probably hurt, most definitely angry. Harry doesn't blame him, those words are hurtful. No one wants to hear they were used and more specifically for their blood.

Even though that wasn't entirely true.

But Harry has to protect himself and the others just as Sarah said. She trusted Niall but only enough. If he refused to become one of them, she would have to make the sacrifice and end his life. And Harry definitely didn't trust Louis. He hardly knew him.

"That's wonderful," Louis sulks. "Good to know I was just a piece of ass to you."

"You'll forget all of that. You won't feel any pain or loss. It's like I never existed."

Louis begins gathering his discarded clothing, empties the pockets, hangs his tie behind the door next to a few others. What's he doing? Is he ignoring Harry? Is this a tactic of his? What's he trying to prove?

"I still felt you," Louis whispers. 

"Of course you would that's why I made it seem like you were sleeping with-"

"Not my ass," he snaps. "Your bite marks. Where you bite…" Louis stops, drops his suit. "Wait a second." He runs to his en suite. There's a shout, a loud shout, followed by crying and cussing.

Louis' never seen it before. Right.

Harry follows suit, finds Louis facing the mirror inspecting his neck. His boxers are hung low on his hips exposing some of his puncture wounds. Some.

"It's, it's horrible," Louis is sobbing at his reflection. "It's red. It's gross. It's all over!! How didn't anyone see it!? Stanley!? How-"

"Humans are taught at a young age that preternatural beings don't exist, Louis. They are trained to not see. Such as ghosts, shape shifters-"

"Vampires," Louis sniffles. 

Harry nods, "yes. You know I exist, Louis, therefore you can see."

"But I don't see anything when you're not here!" Louis cradles his head, "I'm so confused. I don't remember when you're not around. I argued with my friends because they can see. How! How did Liam notice my neck then?"

Harry wants to hold him close, kiss his cheek, feel his warmth. He wants to feel human again, "I guess they were never glamoured."

Louis turns to him, those blue irises scrutinizing him, "What? Why?"

"I'm not too sure. I wasn't there. They must have witnessed an act and the veil was lifted. They were exposed, therefore they can see."

"I don't want to be blind anymore!" He's crying once again, covering his face.

"Louis, I have to glamour you when I leave. I can't have you wandering around with the knowledge that we exist! That would be problematic for me and others," he attempts to explain. "Some hold jobs, some have normal lives, some even have children. They want to be like you but they can't be exposed!"

"Liam and Zayn know! Why not glamour them!?" Louis says defensively.

"I will actually. They shouldn't know. No human should. It's unsafe," Harry adds.

"You're unsafe to be around!" Louis rushes past him.

"I am!" He follows after the man, "I am unsafe that's why I have to make you forget!"

"I don't want to forget you though," Louis' at the edge of the bed cradling his head. It's evident he's crying by the quaking in his shoulders.

Harry had a similar conversation with Mitch, can recall it as if it happened just yesterday. He was watching Mitch beg to be left unglamoured and human, promising he would never tell a soul, that their relationship meant too much to him to spoil. Harry trusted him, believed in him. And he did unfortunately. 

Mitch passed a week later.

"You say you only wanted my blood but that's such a fucking lie," Louis continues. "There are millions of people in this city, you could have had anyone you wanted yet you came back here. To me." He glances at Harry making him pause. "You were here when Stanley was. I felt my neck and leg burning."

Harry's momentarily silenced. He can't defend his actions, "I wanted-" he joins Louis on the bed. "I wanted to apologize about the other night for scaring you. But you were with him for a long time." 

"But why come all those other times? Looking to apologize for scaring the shit out of me that night at the bar? Or will that always be your excuse?"

Harry's at a loss for words, "maybe." He holds their gaze steady. "Maybe I'm apologizing for getting you tangled in this mess in the first place."

"You should be sorry," Louis says. 

He feels deflated, "trust me, I am. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"You should feel sorry that I fell for someone who wants me to forget they exist."

Harry wrings his hands, "you weren't supposed to." 

"But I did," Louis scoots closer to him, touches his upper thigh. "You're terrifyingly beautiful and hard to resist."

He snorts at the comment but he's not amused, "was that meant to be a compliment?" He touches back, grazes Louis' bare skin, savors in the warmth. 

"You are. You're both scary as fuck and drop dead gorgeous."

"Well technically I am dead," Harry turns to Louis, takes in his artfully tousled hair, and collarbones. He's such a lovely human. Damn it. 

Louis turns a little pink, "go figure." 

And it doesn't take long before Harry accidentally kisses him, cups his lovely cheeks and turns this into something far more intimate then he intended. But Harry promised himself, on the way over, one more taste, one more graze, one more moment of them being together before he made the ultimate sacrifice.

A few hours passed by the time they were sated. Louis was struggling to remain awake, holding onto Harry for dear life, whispering his pleas to not make him forget. But this was too important. 

Harry must follow through. 

There were countless tears, arguing, shouting, cussing. Louis refused to open his eyes, covered his face with his hands, tried to run even but Harry's too quick, too strong, too convincing. 

It was the saddest moment Harry experienced since Mitch, even sadder when he himself was turned by Xander's greed. He was losing someone so dear to him, a man he didn't use for blood but for companionship. Louis could have become a life long partner, someone he could spend his evenings with. A person with a soul and such warmth. He was the sun Harry could no longer feel.

Eventually he succeeded, carefully extracted himself from Louis' thoughts using the technique Sarah taught him, used up most of his energy to do so. It took him a few hours but it worked. Louis was intact just without him.

And he'll most definitely work on his friends next to ensure nothing is resurrected accidentally.

Harry placed Louis' sleeping form underneath the sheets, made sure to arrange his belongings perfectly on the dresser, along with his spare key. He made that final call to Hot Luke and even Stanley to make it seem genuine. He was finished.

And that's a sad thought.

He is about to leave when he realizes he forgot something, something very important he should have done weeks ago, something he feared, "Louis," he whispers into the silent room. "Louis, my name is Harry. It's um…" he swipes at his eye, smears thick, black blood across his face. "It was a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

And with that he left before the sun came up over the horizon.

**L**

Louis avoided Liam and Zayn the next few days. He was angry with them, he didn't remember why exactly but he just had to keep his distance for a bit. 

It was for the best. 

He spent his days on the trading floor, worked on his other clients' portfolios, made new connections, even met with a manager from another firm. If he was looking to improve his work-life balance, then maybe he needed to switch companies. 

He left on time all week, purposely bypassed his friends on Friday night and just went home. He figured he could clean out his closet or start a new hobby or make new friends.

Or he needed to sleep. Alone. No more one nighters.

For now.

He opens the door, finds the maid in the kitchen, "hi, Ms. Boyle," he heard her singing from the driveway. He still gets goosebumps when she hits those high notes.

"Why, hello dear!" She greets. Her wool checkered skirt reminded him of a country tablecloth. "How are you?"

He shrugs, sits at the counter, "you know. Alright I suppose."

She turns around, continues cooking at the stove, "you've been home on time every night this week. What happened with work?"

He grips his fingers, "I've decided to leave my firm and go to a smaller investment company."

"Oh! We should celebrate!" She glances over her shoulder, winks, "I've made apple and cheddar pie!"

He sits back on the stool, "no chocolate?"

She goes to the fridge, "I knew you'd ask!" She pulls out a second pie. "Chocolate mousse!" She places it down on the island. 

His eyes widen, "perfect! Can I have a fork?" 

She shakes her head, "no darling. You need to eat first. Then we can gorge ourselves."

"I guess."

"Go change, I'll finish up."

But he remains in place, "nah. I wanna stay out here if you don't mind." 

"Not at all dear. You can tell me about that man of yours," she returns to the stove.

"That man?" He taps his chin, "Stanley?"

"The tall gentleman with the long curly hair? He was exquisite, very lovely indeed."

Louis flinches, "uh well Stanley has short brown hair, not long curly-"

"Oh but he must, dear. He was here every night for the last few months or so. He was such a wonderful man."

He's confused. Who the fuck was she speaking with? "I'm sorry Ms. Boyle but I don't know who you're referring to."

She begins plating his dinner, "Louis, he would come every night." She spoons a large portion of lentil stew into a deep bowl. "The tall man-"

"You said that but I don't remember-" a green eye comes to mind then, a menacing eye, a deathly stare. 

"Harry! That was his name, not Stanley," she places the bowl down, slides over a cloth napkin and utensils, "would you like a drink?"

His throat goes dry, "Harry?" 

"Yes, Harry. The tall gentleman with curly hair. He always wore black, always had on these silky blouses and very very fitted leather pants," she places a glass of water before Louis. "Where did he put his stuff?" 

He chokes on his food, immediately takes the water and gulps half of it down, "come again?"

"Well you know, Louis. His stuff. Where does he put it?" 

He chuckles, "I wouldn't know?" 

"You've got a pair of fitted jeans, Louis," she accuses. "I've seen them in the hamper."

He drops his spoon, splashes the reddish broth on his suit coat and shirt, "oh no!" He swipes at the stains. "Crap!"

"Oh don't worry about that dear, it's nothing. I'll get it out." She begins cleaning up.

Louis continues eating, "wait so, Ms. Boyle. Can you tell me more about this Harry person? Where did he go when I came home?"

She's washing a large pot, "he would speak to me until I left then wait for you, dear."

He shakes his head, "why? Where did he wait?"

"I'm not sure, dear," she sounds distracted. 

Who's this Harry?

That night Louis dreamt of a green eyed man with curly hair, long legs, and very very fitted pants. He felt so happy, so warm, so complete, but he was cold the moment he awoke in the morning.

He knew something was wrong.

**H**

"It wasn't wrong," Niall assures. "You needed to clear his memory of you."

But Harry's never felt so confused or alone, so hopeless, "no one deserves to feel empty." Like him.

He's been on the floor before the dusty hearth gazing at the fire all evening and through the night. He watched the embers smoke and fizzle and turn an ashy white, waited to feel its warmth, but it never penetrated deep enough no matter how hot the fire burned.

He was cold.

"Don't feel bad. You saved his life," Niall continues. "Now he'll be free from this shit." 

"I wish I was free," he mumbles to himself. 

"You look pale. Have you left the house?" Niall makes note of his lack of nourishment. But he's been trying something new.

He nods, "went to the blood bank." 

Niall freezes, "you did?"

Harry glances at him, "I did. You should, too, make amends with Sarah."

He sits opposite Harry, "I'm afraid to. I know she's angry with me."

"What exactly happened?" Harry asks to take the attention away from him.

Niall shrugs, "supposedly my new vessel is too pretty. And I mean she is pretty but why would I do that to Sarah? You know? I made a lot of sacrifices for her and she thinks I'll throw it all away for another woman?" He sighs. "It hurts."

He wants to roll his eyes, "of course it does but avoiding her isn't going to solve anything. You need to speak with her and sort things out."

"I wanted to let her calm down a little before I made my grand entrance with a bouquet of red roses. Hopefully that'll do the trick." 

Harry's beginning to feel pangs of jealousy, "what if it doesn't, Niall? What if she just wants you to tell her you love her? Maybe thank her for putting up with you for so many years?"

"I do love her," he defends.

"So then tell her that!" He continues to gaze at the burning embers, "some of us lost the opportunity to tell our loved ones how we felt, Niall. Never forget that." He thinks of Mitch and then of course Louis comes to mind.

But he didn't love Louis. He was still getting to know the man. The potential was there though.

"I…" Niall falls silent.

They hear the clattering of heels against the floorboards, their only indication that the meddlesome brunette is approaching.

Harry wants to leave suddenly, go out and sit by the lake a few miles away. He's still got plenty of time before sunrise, "alright I'm going to-"

"Gentleman," Eleanor approaches, her red pantsuit such a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin. She was the worst fledgling. So annoying and clingy. 

She hasn't changed much.

Harry just stands and nods towards her, "bye." He heads to the door.

"The Boss is looking for you," she says to his retreating back.

"Wonderful. I'm off, see you ladies later," he jokes.

"He said it's urgent," Eleanor continues.

He wants to scream at her, but she's just the messenger, "can I take a raincheck?"

She approaches, "no he insisted it was important."

"It's always important…" especially when it came to his needs. Harry resigns to his fate. "Where is he?"

"The parlor."

"Got it," and off he went.

But the moment Harry reached his destination, he was attacked, impaled with silver to be exact, in the back of his leg. Then his other leg. 

He was immobilized instantly and on the floor within seconds.

And yes, it was rather uncomfortable, borderline excruciating but he kept his emotions in check, remained impenetrable at least on the surface, even though on the inside he was crying out to no one in particular because who would listen?

**L**

Louis jolts awake suddenly. He was dreaming but the shouting he heard is still reverberating in his skull. And it felt so real. The anguish, the pain, the exhaustion. Louis felt it within himself, felt it in his heart.

He's scratching at his neck, "what was that?" He says to the empty room although he tends to look by this one particular spot by the window. 

There's a hollowness in his chest as if something vital was taken from him, almost like his heart or lungs, or-

What else could possibly be more important than  _ that _ ?

He turns towards his dresser, finds his belongings and cellphone, his overpriced watch, and cigarettes, "oh that would be nice." 

He grabs the half empty pack, his lighter and heads outside. But even after three cigarettes, he's still uncomfortable. There's just something not right and it's not the itching on his neck or the inside of his thigh. 

There's something calling to him, calling  _ for _ him which is utterly ridiculous. All of this is ridiculous. 

**H**

Harry's on the floor, his legs rendered useless from the silver.

"You've been avoiding me,"  _ The Boss's  _ voice rings in his skull as he speaks directly into Harry's ear. "Why's that?"

He wants to push his Maker away from him, but refrains, "you haven't sought me out." He says between gritted teeth. 

Xander laughs, but he's not amused, "I have to hunt  _ you _ down now? What happened to your nightly visits? What happened to our everlasting bond?"

Harry attempts to push him away, "bond? What bond? You took my horniness for bonding?" But he's hurting, the pain now radiating up his legs towards his spine. 

"And now you're mocking me," Xander lifts away, leaves Harry on the floor. "I thought we'd always find one another, Harry. I thought by changing you, you would lose this desire to seek out other lovers."

Harry still has motion in his arms, manages to push himself onto his back, contemplates pulling the silver free. But to touch that with bare hands isn't an easy feat and requires a lot of concentration. Xander is able to with ease due to his age.

"Eleanor has informed me-"  _ oh no _ "-of this vessel of yours."

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh  _ fuck _ no.

"What about it?" He remains calm, collected, reminds himself any slip up will result in something far worse than death. To be trapped under Xander's tyranny for another two centuries would be one of them.

"About  _ it _ ? It doesn't have a name?" Xander's moving about above him doing what exactly?

"Correct.  _ It _ will remain anonymous," his pants are soaked through with blood. He's definitely lying in a puddle of it now. 

"Why's that? Afraid I'll enjoy  _ it _ too much?"

Every nerve ending in Harry's body springs to life, the need to protect what's his, coursing through his being. But even though Louis wasn't his, he still felt responsible for his well-being, "you  _ won't _ I can guarantee." He instinctively reaches behind him, inches his hand towards the silver lodged between his femur and thigh muscle. If he just pulled it free, he could save himself from whatever it was Xander had planned.

More importantly Louis. He needed protection.

Xander is approaching once more, "and why's that?" He's standing over Harry appointing his dominance. 

Harry ceases his movements, "we have similar tastes and  _ their _ blood is sour, too metallic, bitter. The taste lingers for hours." He glances into his Maker's eyes and he wasn't convincing enough. It's never enough.

Xander places his booted foot over Harry's thigh, adds enough pressure to nearly make him lose his composure, " _ impossible _ . I can guarantee Louis tastes divine," His flesh breaks out into a cold sweat at the mention of Louis' name, because  _ fuck _ he knows! "I'm sure he feels even better-"

"No!" He snaps but regrets it immediately. He let his defenses down all too soon. What the fuck is the matter with him!

Xander's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He's found his way in and Harry practically lead the fucking way! "Oh? So he must be a lovely human especially if he caught  _ your _ attention."

Now he's panicking. Xander can't get his filthy hands on Louis because if he does- 

"I'll be sure to sample a taste,"  _ The Boss _ is the real monster, a heartless, cold blooded monster, "in front of you that is. Maybe we can share?"

" _ No _ ," he grunts. "I do  _ not _ share." Their gazes are unwavering.

Xander bends down, grips Harry's wrist, "listen to how selfish you are. This is why you died you know. You were a selfish brat always seeking for my affections, always begging for more." Something glints in his free hand. "And I took too much, killed you nearly instantly." Harry knows what it is. "Then I thought to myself, how much I would miss you. And it was too much actually-" His Maker bites harshly at his wrist, tears at his flesh. Harry cries out, attempts to pull free but it's too late! Xander lifts his head, reveals a bloodied mouth and chin. "How pathetic was I? Falling for a human. An insignificant  _ human _ ." 

Harry turns away, hides his discomfort, "I  _ was _ insignificant." He whispers, finds his eyes are beginning to leak blood. 

He's pulled towards his Maker, the motion making him lock eyes with him, "not to me, unfortunately." Xander's age makes him far more superior to Harry in strength, speed, and agility. He stands no chance. "Yet here you are, denying me of the simplest of pleasures." The silver is visible then. Harry attempts to fight him off but it's inevitable. "And I'm not happy about it. So you shouldn't be either." 

**L**

About a week later, Louis is on his way to the office for his last day. He decided to go casual, figured he'd say his goodbyes and clean out his desk, avoid Stringer and Cowbell if he decided to be in the office. It's a relief for him. Now he can focus on his personal life and not rely on one night fuck sessions to sate his cravings.

And fine, he was going to apologize to Liam and Zayn for whatever it was that caused them to argue because he missed them.

"Hey," he enters the office, finds his two friends behind their desks.

Zayn lifts his head first, "Louis." He seems shocked by his presence or maybe it's his appearance? He supposes the black fleece lined denim jacket was a bit much. But he was feeling adventurous today. "We heard the news."

Liam clears his throat, "we weren't the cause for your decision right?" He sounds solemn. 

Louis shakes his head, "no way. I need a change that's all." He sits at his desk and begins pulling the drawers open, finds his notebook and fountain pen. "And I wanted to apologize for whatever it is that happened between us. I was stressed out and took it out on you guys."

"We should have taken you more seriously. We thought you were just being dramatic," Liam admits. "But after doing some of those reports, we realized just how difficult you had it."

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have sold that cock bag a shit stock."

"Stringer always had you on his radar. There was no way you were coming out of this unscathed," Zayn says. 

Louis knew it too, he always knew, "yeah I guess no matter what I did it wouldn't matter."

"Let's go to the bar!" Liam suggests, "on me that is."

Louis' eyes widen, pretends to be shocked, "really!? You'll pay!?"

"Well technically you didn't either, Lou," Zayn recalls. "You left to go sleep with that asshole at the bar."

He attempts to remember exactly which asshole it was he managed to bring home with him, but he can only recollect the hair and how incredibly curly it was, "sorry. My needs were calling to me." He grins at the memory. 

His neck twinges.

"Alright so let's go!" Liam stands up, pulls at his tie.

Louis checks his watch, "dude it's only ten in the morning."

"Oh," he plops back down in defeat. 

Zayn cackles at his expense, "jackass." He turns to Louis, "are you working on the floor like that?" He gestures to Louis' denim clad legs. 

"If I wanted to entice my investors, sure," he grins at the thought of shaking his ass on the floor, distracting anyone who cared for that sort of thing. But he knew he looked good, maybe too good. Maybe these jeans were a bad idea, they were suffocating his junk. "Anyway, I'll just clean up here, go speak to Human Resources, shit on Stringer for a few hours and wait on you guys. Sound good?"

"We'll meet you there?" Liam suggests.

"Sure. I can drive your lame asses home."

"It's your celebration and you won't be drinking?" Zayn asks.

Louis shakes his head, "I need to be sober for a bit."

"Why's that?" Liam probes, "you don't trust your drunken self?"

"I don't-" Louis' neck begins to burn then, the discomfort making him flinch, "owe." He rubs at the soreness. 

**H**

Harry's immobile, he's starving, his body is weak. His mind is having difficulty thinking past the gnawing hunger in his abdomen and the silver digging into his skin. He hasn't had the chance to feed, to mend, to feel any relief. He lost track of time, too.

He's been here how long? How many hours? Days? How often did Xander come in to take what he believes to be his? How many times is enough? Will he ever get his fill and leave Harry the fuck alone? He's already been stripped bare both mentally and physically. How much more can his Maker take from him?

He wishes he could find eternal rest this way, from starvation, from the silver, from being sucked dry or maybe from crying. But no. He can't. It's impossible. He's already dead. He could remain this way for decades and never find peace. The sun or a stake to the heart are his only options.

And Xander is too fucking selfish to see him go.

But occasionally, Harry's able to find an escape, find his warmth and comfort, touch what once seemed forbidden. And it seemed like a sin. Louis was such a beautiful person, so exquisite, unattainable. His very being was captivating and Harry wishes to hold him once more, to feel his heat against his cold skin. 

Harry has to stop though. His mind can't wander to his sanctuary, to his place of comfort. If he thinks of Louis too often, he will inadvertently call out to him and that will only give Louis the compulsion to seek  _ him _ out. And that would be the result of his carelessness, his own greed. He knew there was a connection between them but he chose to ignore it, disregarded the fact that he Marked Louis accidentally.

Louis wouldn't know who Harry is either, wouldn't understand why he was roaming aimlessly, and what it was he was searching for. It would be a fucking nightmare if he got too close. Xander would no doubt find him and  _ fuck _ , it would be so bad! Harry can't even fathom what could potentially happen.

Although he has an idea and it makes him sick.

"L-Louis?" he croaks in a moment of longing, but his throat is dry, so dry his tongue feels like sandpaper, and his lips are cracked and splitting. 

He's gruesome no doubt, gaunt and grey, his eyes black pits, his skin translucent and cut up, littered with scratches and bite marks. His Maker isn't being gentle by any means, using his force and strength to belittle him and remind him where Harry stands. With the way he's being treated, anyone would think Xander wanted him dead.

But now it's all clear to him. His Maker is in love with him, a confession Harry heard the last time they were intimate, the words muffled against his skin when he was bitten, the entrance points Xander used when Harry was human. 

His right shoulder blade. Never his neck. That's too clichè.

It wasn't a total shock, he had a feeling that's why he wasn't killed off. Xander wanted him around in hopes of changing Harry's mind to have him love again. But that will never happen. His Maker has proven to be vile and cruel, a fucking headache.

And Harry wants him gone.

**L**

How Louis managed to end up with the second cutest dude, him being the first, at the bar is still up for debate. But Louis left the company of his friends and now they're outside making out when they were supposed to be smoking.

It was a quick snatch and grab, the batting of his eyes, the twerk of his ass and bam! The guy was in his grasp. He apologized to Zayn and Liam, told them he'll arrange a driver but they insisted he go and have a good time even though a one night fuck session wasn't in his immediate plans.

Oh well. 

He's against the facade of the building, the nameless dude pressing him further into the brick, their kisses becoming more heated as they continue. It's probably inappropriate to do in public but they're off the sidewalk, tucked away in a lit alleyway just by the entrance. 

Louis can't fathom why this feels familiar though. Has he done this before? Right here? In this very spot? Was he with this person? Why is he having a sense of Deja Vu?

The guy stops kissing him, pulls back, "did you maybe wanna head out?" 

Louis searches his face, notes his wavy hair and hazel eyes, "um…" he swallows, continues searching for what exactly? What's his brain trying to remember?

"Well?" The dude asks.

He stirs from his thoughts, "yeah, sorry! Sorry, yeah let's go." 

**H**

"Let me  _ go _ ," the words are whispered, just audible, barely a squeak. 

_ Fuck _ Harry's so disoriented and famished. His thoughts are unbridled, running rampant, circling between blood, staking Xander in the heart, and Louis.  _ Louis _ . 

But he mentally slaps himself. He can't think of that beautiful man and an impeccable neckline, of that warmth, of freedom, of blood, of Louis, of-

"Louis. Louis?" 

**L**

Louis stops mid step. He's walking hand in hand with the random dude from the bar when a pulling sensation tugs at his heart.

"What's wrong?" They ask.

Louis' neck and thigh are burning now, "I don't-" he releases his grip, reaches for his neck, feels the skin is warm underneath his touch. "Oh God." He scrunches his eyes shut. 

"Um, hello?" 

"I uh," Louis searches the street, looks both ways. "I have to go." He announces when a compulsion overtakes his being. He has to go and he doesn't understand why. 

"What why?" The man asks.

Louis doesn't even glance back, he walks straight to his car parked at the end of the block and drives until the sensation in his neck becomes so profound he can't see straight. And he's in the affluent part of town, the area he's been in just a few times whether it be by accident or just passing through.

His neck and thigh twinge, tickle, burn,  _ hurt _ ! "Ah!" He stops short in front of the most ornate greystone on the street. 

He looks out the car window towards the three story detached home, finds black double entry doors with two gold knobs centered on each side, and a gold knocker that's probably the size of Louis' head. The facade is muted, grey limestone, with black cornices along the roof line, and heavily curtained windows giving the home a menacing look because what are they hiding? Besides the entry are two gaslight lamps illuminating the walkway almost like an invitation.

But it isn't. This isn't welcoming. 

Louis swallows past the lump in his throat, "what the fuck am I doing here?" He winces at the pain in his inner thigh. "Evidently it's important." 

He parks the car up the street and makes the trek back, his footfalls both urgent and hesitant, fearful as if he were walking to his own death. So why is he continuing if his subconscious knows it's dangerous? 

As he approaches, a bay window on the side of the home not visible to the street, is illuminated from within, the light fragmented and bending as if lit by a fireplace. He looks towards the roof, finds the puff of smoke confirming his suspicions. 

Louis shivers into his denim coat, curses himself for not wearing socks, "what am I getting myself into?" 

He pushes through the black rot iron gate and approaches the large doors. He's sweating now, his heart is racing, his fucking neck and thigh hurts! He should just  _ run _ but he can't! He can't walk away.

But he isn't given the opportunity to knock, the door swings open on its own revealing a tall brown haired man. He's well built, dressed in suit pants, a white tailored shirt and a black and white cravet tied around his neck. He's holding a glass filled with dark liquid, its consistency reminding Louis of a chocolate milkshake even from a few feet away.

"Welcome," the man says with a pleasant grin.

Louis  _ almost _ feels welcome, "h-hi." He stutters. Almost but not so much.

"I've been expecting you."

His heart begins to race, "you, you have?" His neck is throbbing now, the pain is progressing into something he can't ignore. Louis instinctively touches it.

The man grins, "oh yes." He takes a sip from the glass. "Come in, Louis."

His eyes widen, his fear spikes, "I, I don't-"

But the man moves unnaturally fast, grips his bicep and drags him inside the mansion.

**H**

Harry was dreaming of a lovely blue eyed man, the name escaping him but he smelled of cigarettes and sandalwood, had an ass he'd love to touch, a jawline so cut he'd fear he'd hurt himself while kissing him. The taste would be sublime, too, so invigorating and delicious. What he'd give to sink his teeth into-

He's roused awake though, the pain in his right shoulder worse than the throbbing in his open wounds where the silver is lodged. His Maker decided to poison him with venom, used the deadly force they place upon humans when they're feeding to kill. 

This won't bring Harry peace nor death.

**L**

"Sit," the man forces Louis down on a velvet sofa situated just before a hearth. 

This is the room with the bay window and on quick inspection, it looks to be a study. The dusty books lining the floor to ceiling built-ins and a large oak desk in the corner are dead giveaways. There's no other light source either, no overhead fixtures or lamps. 

What is wrong with this house? It looks so ordinary on the outside, for the most part. It's like Louis went back in time.

His hands are clasped in his lap, his knees clamped together, "um, wait so you knew my name." He whispers. "How?"

The man finishes whatever it was he had in his glass, dabs at the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. "I have my ways." He seems young, too young for his actions, and choice of clothing. And a handkerchief? It makes Louis wonder just what century he's from because certainly he isn't older than thirty.

Or was this an act?

"What ways are those?" Louis asks, "and how did you know I was coming?" He questions.

He laughs, but it's filled with venom, anger even, "I wouldn't ask a question you don't want answered."

"But I do. I want to know how you knew I'd be-" The man is in his face then, the movement blindingly fast, unnatural. Louis gasps when he's pushed against the sofa back, nearly cries out when the man is within inches of his face. "H-how, how-"

His  _ host _ grips at his coat and t-shirt, pulls them to the side to reveal his collarbone. He's fighting the man off but he's too strong! "He's such a fool."

Louis finds the man's eyes which now that he notices are  _ black _ . He instinctively moves away, attempts to free himself, "I think you have the wrong person!"

The man sniffs his neck, grimaces, " _ no _ . I don't." He's yanked from the couch by the collar of his coat and onto his wobbly, jelly-like legs. Now Louis' afraid. Very, very afraid. "He's so fucking _ careless _ !!" The man shouts, begins pacing. He's gripping his hair, pulling at the buttons on his shirt, disrupting the cravet around his neck. 

Louis' barely able to stand on his own two feet, his knees nearly buckle, "b-but who? Who are you talking about?"

"Ha!" The man cackles at his expense, "who am I  _ talking _ about!?" He continues pacing. "Who am I talking about! Oh, so maybe he isn't so careless after all!" 

Louis begins backing away. Maybe he can escape? But his neck! It hurts, it burns, it's making him pause. And why did this man look at it? What's there? He wants answers but he's also beginning to fear for his life.

"The being who marked you,  _ that's _ who I'm referring to."

"I'm-" he grips his collar, feels the heat underneath his palm, "I'm what?"

The man approaches him then, "this-" he grips Louis' shoulders, turns him towards a mirror, and pulls his collar open. 

Louis doesn't see anything though just his neck, "what?" He eyes the man in confusion. "I don't- what am I supposed to see?"

They roll their eyes, groan in exasperation, "he did a better job than I thought." He takes Louis' wrist.

Louis resists, "wait but-" the man bites it, breaks skin. He flinches, attempts to pull away, cries out towards the mirror. "Ah!"

His captor releases and straightens, reveals a mouth dotted red along with his teeth, " _ that _ !" A large oval shaped welt is visible now, it's a deep crimson, it's burning, it's puffy, it's oozing! "This is a  _ marking _ ." 

Louis' eyes are impossibly wide, he's scared, he doesn't know what to do or feel or even fathom how this happened!? "S-someone, someone did this?" He points to his reflection, finds his face and he doesn't even recognize himself. He's so pale. 

"Some _ thing _ did this to you, Louis," the man is behind him, gripping his shoulders. "And he's a fucking imbecile for being careless and God damn  _ horny _ ." He says between gritted teeth.

"What!?" He's struggling now, he wants to leave, he wants to run so far away from this place and never come back! "I have to leave!"

"Absolutely not."

Louis scrunches his eyes shut, fights off the man who seems to be made of cement, "please let me go! I'm not who you want! I swear I'm just a regular guy who likes to work all the time and smoke and do-"

"And stumble upon undead beings who want to claim you as their lifelong  _ pet _ ," the man grunts. He takes Louis by the shoulders once more, directs him back to the sofa but then deposits him before the fire on the floor instead.

"Wh-what are you gonna do!?" But the man is silent. He's staring down at Louis, searching him, touching his arms and torso. "What are you looking for!?" 

"Shut  _ up _ ," the man snaps. "You're the reason for all of this!" 

His eyes are misty, "for what!" He feels so dirty from being touched, from the mark on his neck, from being bitten!

Once again the man falls silent, runs his hands over Louis' lower abdomen and now his legs. He wants to run and hide and never resurface, he wants to be left alone!

"Owe!!" He cries out when the man touches his thigh.

"There!" 

His captor grips the waist of Louis' jeans, pulls them down along with his boxers past his bottom, reveals far too much and makes him feel so exposed, he wants to die right here. 

Louis' seeing double as his tears surface, as the unthinkable comes to mind, as the fear of being hurt or taken advantage of or  _ he doesn't know! _ But it's there soon enough, a series of bite marks along his upper thigh. They remind Louis of small bullet holes as if he were a target. And there are  _ so many _ of them.

"Well, well," the man is running his fingers along the wounds as if intrigued by the gruesome site. "Soon, Louis it will all be over, your memory will be just that, a memory and lost to the wind."

He's crying now, the sobs unabashed, "what's happening?" He whispers. He wants to cover himself, he wants to run away!

"Someone's hungry, Louis," the man lifts his head, reveals a monster, a black eyed, long toothed monster. 

He shouts in utter fear, tears up to the point where his eyesight is blurred. The fingers, that are now sharp claws, on his captor's hand dig into his opposite leg and now his shoulder. And he's trapped, the flailing is doing nothing but causing more pain in his leg and shoulder.

There's something hot blowing on his exposed thigh, "it's been weeks, Louis.  _ Weeks _ ." But he's barely listening past the sobs in his ears. "And they need to  _ feed _ . But I'm allowed a sample before he kills you, do you understand? I'm his Maker." 

"M-maker?" He squeaks. "Kill!?"

"I own him and soon, Louis, I'll own you too," There's a sharp ache in his groin, a swelling of pain from the fangs puncturing his skin.

He cries out, flails any part of his body that he is able, attempts to free himself, but it makes it worse, it only makes this monster suck even harder, harsher. The blood seeping into his jeans is hot and sticky, coming out in spurts, coating his skin and the Persian rug beneath him. And the pain is so intense, his teeth are chattering from the cold seeping in, his body beginning to weaken.

He's losing coherency quickly.

They stop then, lift their head and expose the gruesome features of a killer. Their lips and chin are stained red with _his blood_ , his eyes are rimmed with dark circles, his mouth elongated, adjusted to fit the size of his incisors. Louis' so confused he can't believe this is reality, that this being before him is ready to murder him.

The monster grunts, takes hold of Louis' shoulders, "almost done." They growl and make their way to his neck, to the same place he has the giant welt. And it's more excruciating than his leg, far more concentrated, maybe he's biting harder on purpose?

At least that's what it feels like. 

There's a loud noise on the other side of the house overpowering Louis' sobbing. It sounds angered, it sounds animalistic, it sounds  _ pissed _ . And he can't understand what's being said or if there is anything discernable. It all sounds jumbled, especially mixed in with his anguish and shouting.

His instincts were correct, he should have never come here. He should have stayed with that dude at the bar, fucked him once and called it a night.

Or maybe he should have hung out with his friends, had a few drinks, maybe got tipsy and had fun for the first time in what feels like forever.

He had so many options yet he's here being sucked dry and torn to shreds.

His captor ceases his assault suddenly, releases his claws and fangs and any other sharp object he impaled Louis with. But he doesn't feel any relief or comfort. He's aching. He's crying. He's inconsolable.

"Now for the pièce de résistance," the man chuckles and swiftly leaves the room leaving Louis a bloody mess on the rug.

His head is swimming in a sea of fangs, sharp claws, and blood, feeling more sickened than he ever had before. He's still in shock, so afraid of moving in fear of splitting open a wound beyond repair. But now that he thinks of it,  _ he's _ beyond repair. There is no forgetting about this or moving on. 

If he escapes, he'll be fucked up forever.

The man returns and is cleaned up, no longer a frightening beast and covered in Louis' blood. It looks like he changed his entire outfit, too because now he's in all black with a red cravet around his neck.

How fitting.

"Let's get on with the show," the man pulls Louis' jeans back into place and picks him up with ease, throws him over his shoulder and carries him someplace. He doesn't know where, he's barely coherent, but the rooms change and he believes they use a flight of stairs to go where? Up? Down? 

Where?

**H**

It was the ultimate betrayal and Harry felt it everywhere, on every nerve ending, in his very being and it hurt. It hurt more than the venom still burning in his shoulder. This only solidified that he marked Louis. He's never done that before either. But now the connection has been compromised, he can no longer sense Louis or confirm where he is, if he's close by or if he's still alive?

Harry just has to regain his strength, has to get his bearings once again. Right now his sole focus is to feed, to mend, and fucking leave his Maker for good.

The door swings open then, slams into the wall, barely makes Harry flinch. There's another noise but he's so focused he barely notices what's happening.

"Oh you're still awake!" It's his Maker. He fights so hard against the heaviness in his limbs but he can't move, not even an inch especially with the silver lodged in his muscles. "I've brought you a gift." Xander hovers over him, his eyes now a dark brown. "I think you'll thoroughly enjoy it." Harry wants to fucking kill him because it's Louis isn't it? He's downstairs? "But you'll need to feed first, only then you'll be able to appreciate what I've given you." Xander bends further down, comes within inches of his ghastly face. "Hold still." 

The silver is removed from his wrists first, the process not as painful as the gashes never had the opportunity to properly heal. The back of the legs though? Well, he'd wish to forget immediately considering how deep they were.

But he's free, he's weak but free-

He lunges towards his Maker anyway as the need to murder takes precedence, goes directly for this throat, bares his fangs and claws. But he's so easily subdued, pushed back down onto _ Xander's _ bed with just a light push. It's pathetic.

His stomach folds in on itself, exposes his hunger once more, distracts him from what he needs to do before killing this poor excuse of a monster.

His Maker is once again in his face, so close as if looking to kiss him, "too bad you're not in your right mind. I'd fuck you here, right now, prove to you how much of a mistake you've made by going after that pretty boy." Louis was his best lover to date, the most pliant, the most willing. 

And the loveliest person he's encountered in all of his years and he has to get to him wherever he is. He has to hold him, feel the warmth he longs for. He prays he's downstairs in the study waiting for him somewhat unscathed.

"Or maybe we should anyway," his Maker continues. "You always did enjoy having an audience." Harry wishes he could do more, maybe push the man away, maybe kick him in the crotch, save himself,  _ feed _ . His fangs elongate suddenly at the thought. "You were always such a minx, always so ready, like right now, completely bare and waiting." Xander leans in towards him, purses his lips-

But Harry turns away, shakes his head,  _ no.  _

Xander sneers, "I'll have my way with you whether you like it or not. But I'll wait, you're too  _ dramatic _ when you're hungry." He approaches the human that's lying motionless on the ground.

They're facing the door in a heap. Their jacket is caked with blood, the fleece lining as well. The crimson liquid is all over, including the small puncture wounds on the back of their head from Xander's claws. They're a mess.

Harry peers down at himself and he isn't doing too well either.

"He was delicious," Xander's voice disrupts his thoughts. "I would have killed him myself, but I'll let you finish him."

He grunts in response. He'll need it.

"Right," Xander drags the man closer, gestures towards him. "Have at it then."

Harry's attention is fixated on the human being, his eyes wide, his fangs dripping with venom. They're waiting to feed, to attack, to  _ kill _ -

He rushes off the bed towards the man without another thought, grips them harshly and tugs them to his chest, finds his hunger is clawing at him from the inside-out, overtaking his senses, and clouding his already veiled judgement. He has to feed. He has to eat. He has to sink his teeth into this man's flesh!

He doesn't even care if they're sloppy seconds. He doesn't give a shit his Maker rubbed his scent all of over them. He doesn't even think twice about how they might taste, he just has to fucking placate his hunger before it gets any worse.

He positions them between his legs as his victim begins to struggle and fight back, subdues their thrashing arms, renders them motionless with his own claws and remaining strength. This has to be a clean bite.  _ No fuck ups _ . 

He sinks his fangs into the back of their neck, releases his venom causing the man to cry out and flinch, and pulls to his heart's content, taking long drags as if looking to get high as quickly as possible. And it's the best feeling. He's healing. He feels the fogginess lift instantly.

"That's right, almost there," Xander encourages.

He's practically savoring in the struggles and whining his victim is releasing. It's the sensation he's missed, the satisfaction of taking another  _ useless _ human's life. And to think he wanted to go to Sarah for blood, use what was donated as his source of nourishment. 

And Harry tried. It was too processed though, too  _ cold _ . It lacked the heat he desired and longed for. It was plastic and just not  _ fresh _ . What can compare to this right here?

Nothing. Unfortunately. So he continues on, fills his empty stomach with warm, fresh, and delicious-

Xander was wrong. 

They taste disgusting if Harry's honest. It's too metallic, too sour, bitter even and as his coherency returns, the more his memories begin to take shape. 

The man's cries dissipate, his body goes slack in his arms, the moment to finish him off is right here,  _ right now _ . And with just a few more pulls, it'll be over and  _ done _ .

"Just a few more, Harry. Just a few more and he's all  _ yours _ ."

But the taste is too strong, a powerful memory even and it reminds him  _ who this is _ .

Harry backs away as the nausea tingles his cheeks, the uneasiness settling in the pit of his stomach. He releases his hold too, allows the man to fall to the floor lifeless.

_ Lifeless!? _

"No," Harry's eyes begin to leak. "No!" He reaches for their small shoulders, turns them around, and he's so fucking pale, colorless, close to death. "Louis!!" He cries out, takes hold of Louis' now chilled body, clutches him to his chest. "Holy fuck, no. No. No!!"

"Guess you found your gift," Xander's voice echoes throughout the large chamber.

There's a faint heartbeat but it's just audible, it's weakening too, Harry can feel it. But Louis' convulsing, reminding him he was ready to kill and not just feeding.

"Holy fuck, the poison!" He gently turns Louis over in his arms and there's _Harry's_ fucking welt on the back of his neck, this one far more visible then his others. It's horrid. It's reminding him how much he's fucked up and continues to. 

"Oh, Harry has a conscience!"

"Fuck you!" He shouts at the putrid man in the corner.

Xander chuckles, "I've only been looking out for your best interests."

"And what's  _ that _ ? Starving me to the point of delirium so I kill anyone who means something to me!?" He looks down to Louis and his eyes tear up. It's Mitch all over again. 

"I'm saving you from an unnecessary relationship, a relationship I too wish I would have left behind!"

He shakes his head in disbelief, "well you had _ me _ . Why can't I have something of my own? Be semi happy!?"

"I wish my Maker stopped me," Xander's voice is sympathetic.

But his blood boils, his anger surges, "I don't  _ want _ you to help me! I want you to leave me the  _ fuck _ alone!" There's blood everywhere, on him, on the floor, on Louis. The smell is driving him mad but he has to get to Sarah! 

He quickly stands with Louis in his arms, his mind moving in circles at what to do first, if it's all that important to be fully clothed or clothed at all. But parading around naked isn't the best of ideas either especially with the markings he has lining his arms and legs, the countless bite marks on his torso and back.

He'll be sure to capture the attention of a human and not in the way he desires.

His Maker approaches, his lips downturned, "where do you think you're going?" 

" _ Saving _ Louis. Where else would I go!?" Harry spits and heads to the door. 

There's a hand on his shoulder, a possessive hand with claws digging into his skin, "no you're  _ not _ ." Xander's voice is a low growl, menacing, meant to be threatening but Harry doesn't give a shit. 

His mind is made up, " _ yes _ , I am." He shoves the man off and reaches for the door handle.

Xander exercises his age, his power, his strength over him, pushes him backwards and reaches for Louis, "if you don't kill him, then I will!"

Harry turns away, grips Louis to his chest, fights off his Maker, "no!" But he's too quick, too strong! And it's no use, Harry's not at full capacity and even if he was, it's a losing battle.

His Maker takes Louis' body in his grasp, holds him by his waist and neck, his mouth ready to tear at Louis' throat, "this will be  _ quick _ I promise."

It's all too much to take in. The image of Louis being torn to shreds before his eyes makes every scar, cut, bite, and wound lining his own body burn. He can't let this happen!

He collapses to his hands and knees in defeat as the memory of Mitch resurfaces full force, as his own emotions overtake his sanity, "no!!" His eyes expel more blood, his mind so focused on saving Louis and not having to deal with a broken heart all over again, he makes a plea deal, the only arrangement his Maker would consider, "you can have  _ anything _ just not him." He begs. " _ Anything _ that I'm able to offer you."

Xander licks at his split lips, grips Louis' mid section with such force Harry's certain he heard a rib crack, "anything?" He sounds interested.

Harry swipes at his face, takes in Louis' pale features and blood stained clothes, "yes." He whispers, having no other choice. 

"I'm assuming you're willingly giving yourself over to me," It sounds worse than he thought.

"If-" he chokes on his tongue "-if that's what you want." 

Xander mocks him, "you and I both know,  _ Harry _ , that's exactly what I want."

"Th-then it's settled," he shivers at the bargain he's just agreed to. "I'll help Louis, ensure he's well then return-"

"By tomorrow at dawn," Harry attempts to contest- "uh-uh! Those are my terms. If you're not back I will personally seek him out-" another rib broken. Harry grimaces "-and force you to watch me as I take his life.  _ Understood _ ?"

He swallows, "yes, Xander-"

His Maker shakes his head, "wrong."

Harry bites at his tongue, "yes,  _ Boss. _ " He murmurs the stupid nickname.  _ The Boss _ was what Xander wanted Harry to call him in bed, when they were close, when Xander believed he wouldn't leave or seek out other lovers. It made his skin crawl.

But it stuck. And now other members of their community call him  _ The Boss _ like it actually meant something more.

"Now, go change," his Maker instructs. "I'll keep watch over dear ole Louis."

But he refuses, "no. He comes with me!" He stands, reaches for him, nearly bursts into hysterics right then and there. The thought of the pain Louis will wake up to makes his head spin and body ache.

He'll suffer all because of Harry. But he offered himself to Xander, guaranteed his safety and security. Louis will be alive and that's what matters.

"Harry, go put on your fucking clothes before I rescind our deal and kill Louis right here."

"But then you'll lose me," he reminds.

"I'll be sure to keep you alive and miserable. Don't you worry," Xander sneers.

Harry sighs, "that's my future anyway, right?" He heads to the door, glances back at Louis, reminds himself why he's doing this.

He's reason enough.

A few minutes later, Harry's in the study where Xander brought a still lifeless Louis.  _ Oh God _ .

"Mm, very lovely," Xander deposits Louis' body on the couch, approaches him in two long strides, grips Harry's ass like he belongs to him. "Such a lovely backside you have."

"I'm not your prisoner yet," he pushes past Xander, kneels down before Louis, touches his forehead. He's burning up, he needs a blood transfusion, and the  _ poison _ , "fuck." He'll need to take care of that too.

"Remember, if you're not back-"

"I'll be  _ fucking _ back," Harry takes Louis in his arms bridal style. 

"Looking forward to it."

"Of course you are. You'll finally have your wish."

**L**

Louis wishes he could stay asleep, remain in this deep slumber, reenergize, but there's movement above him, a stinging on his neck and inner thigh, an ache in his abdomen. He's uncomfortable and it's pulling at his consciousness. 

"Louis?" There's a whisper in his ear, a sweet sound he's heard in his dreams, "darling?" His body shivers at the pet name. "Do you hear me?" It's so smooth, deep. "Let me know you're with me?" He wants to sleep though. "Louis please?" He wants to relax! "Do you feel any pain?" 

All over but not when this man speaks.

There's a hand on his stomach, a gentle touch, feather light almost like a whisper.

"Why isn't he waking up?"

"It's probably the pain medication."

"Or the trauma?"

"Yeah, from  _ me _ ." The hand is gone all too soon. "Why couldn't I just leave him the fuck alone!" Louis hears a loud shout followed by a crashing sound. There's murmuring then but Louis can't understand or even be bothered with this person's outburst.

He wants that hand to return though. It was soft. It made the pain go away. It eased his mind. And the voice too. The voice was ethereal. 

He twitches his fingers, attempts to get some feeling back into them.

"He moved!"

"What?" There's approaching footfalls, "Louis?" It's the voice! "Louis, please, I need to speak to you or just-" there's a heavy sigh "-before it's too late. I need to say goodbye." Goodbye!? He never said hello! "Which is ridiculous because you don't even know who the  _ fuck _ I am."

"It's okay-"

"Of  _ course _ it is! Why give him another reason to question his sanity?" There's a hint of resentment in his tone, "he won't be able to see me again after this anyway." 

"Even us?"

"I don't know what  _ The Boss _ has in store so I'm going to say yes, it's best you all stay away."

"You're my Maker, of course I want to see you. You get sort of attached in a way." 

What's a Maker? 

There's a snort, "sure.  _ Attached _ . I'll be half alive, unable to recognize even myself, never mind you, Niall." There's a moment of silence. "It'll be awful but I'll go numb soon enough."

"How could you consider such a bargain?"

"It was easy."

"For who!? You're going to be half a human-"

"Niall, we're _ not  _ human by any stretch of the imagination!"

What!? Not human!? What is this  _ being _ then!? And they're touching him!? He flinches.

"He moved again!"

"His heart rate fluctuated, too."

"Louis?" That being's voice is just too much, "please look at me?" But if they're not human, who's in this room with him? Shouldn't he be worried? Something cold brushes his hand.

He jumps, pulls his hand back, blinks his eyes open and he's met with a bright light, it's filaments humming above him. 

"Louis?" 

He squints, finds three  _ human _ heads in a row, their features blurred from the light, "what-" his voice is raspy, unrecognizable. "Where am I?" 

"The hospital," a female with brown hair pulled into a tight bun approaches, her features taking shape the closer she gets.

Her eyes are practically glowing against her pale, porcelain-like skin both delicate and breakable, smooth and blemish free. And her lips? They're a blood red and it's not from lipstick. It looks like they were permanently stained. She looks otherworldly if he's honest.

He begins to panic, his breathing painful with each intake he takes, "why?" 

She's wearing a white lab coat, "there was an accident-"

"Louis?" That sound makes his heart sing and skin prickle. 

His gaze slowly makes its way over to a man with short wavy brown hair, cobalt blue irises and an anxious grin. He looks just as uncomfortable as Louis feels, just as perfect as the woman, just as ethereal. 

What's their secret? And can Louis be in on it?

"Louis, I-" 

Louis' eyes find the tall man last and his breath hitches, his throat goes dry, his body reacts as if his subconscious knows something he doesn't. And it's the strangest feeling, it's the most intoxicating, the most horrifying. He's frighteningly beautiful. 

It's disconcerting.

"Niall," the female turns to the wavy haired man. "Let's give them a moment."

He argues though, "but maybe we should-" 

"Niall! Come on!" She drags him to the door and soon they're alone.

Their eyes never waver and Louis believes he's managed to breathe once again. 

"How are you feeling?" They break the silence.

Louis reaches for his chest, then neck, "I've been better." 

He takes in their appearance and it's unreal. This person is unreal. And his leather pants are so fitted, they look to be painted on.  _ Woah.  _

Nothing is left to the imagination.

"I'm sure," they sit at the foot of the bed, glance occasionally his way.

His body isn't his own. It's calling out to this man, craving their touch, "what's happening? Why am I-" he pauses, scrunches his eyes shut "-not dead?"

They frown, "well, Louis-"

He pales, "you know my name, you know I'm injured. How? Why?"

"You love to ask questions."

"Why are you deflecting them?" Louis demands.

They run a delicate hand through their hair, the motion going straight to Louis' crotch. Which leads him to another question and another! "I'm going to explain everything to you but whether you believe it or not is up to you."

"Why do I want you!?" His neck begins to throb, between his thighs, his torso! "Why did that man bite-" he begins to cry unexpectedly, the emotions buried deeper than he thought possible. "I know what I saw, what I went through, the pain I felt. But that man attacked me for a reason. He knew what to look for, he  _ knew _ who gave me these-" he touches his neck. Louis' wrist was bandaged, too.  _ Right _ . "Who  _ are _ you?"

They sigh, "for all intents and purposes, your lover."

Louis' eyes widen, "come again? You're my  _ what _ ?" His mind runs rampant through the multiple men he's been with and this person wasn't one of them. "I've never seen you before in my life!"

They snort but it's half-hearted, sad even, "but you have and you begged me to kiss you, be with you,  _ bite _ you." Louis shakes his head. "Especially between your legs."

He flinches because he never mentioned _ those _ , "I…"

"Many times, Louis. Many,  _ many _ times," they glance his way. "I didn't want to get close to you, but you're exquisite." Louis blushes. "And I couldn't turn you away. But Louis you have to understand something-"

"But you're not my type!!" He shouts and the man or being or whatever he is furrows his brow, looks to him inquisitively.

"I'm not your type?" He asks as if he couldn't believe his ears.

Louis nods, "yah. It's the hair." He motions with his hand.

"Not your  _ type _ ?" They repeat in disbelief.

"Yeah, it's the pants, too."

They look down, "that's ridiculous."

"They're really tight. Where do you put your-" suddenly they're in Louis' face, holding him prisoner between their hands, gazing at him with strikingly green eyes that practically sparkle which is insane. Louis' breathing heavily, the pain now replaced with his arousal. "H-how did you…" They lick their blood red lips, the action seductive and going straight to Louis' groin. "I uh-"

"Am I still not your type?" 

He's transfixed on this being, staring into their eyes as if trapped in a dream or did they cast a spell? His neck and thigh begin to throb, "n-no, no. Nope. Nope you're not. You're not my type." 

"Oh," they grin, remain in place as if to lure him in, like this will change Louis' mind. Because it won't! They gently touch his cheek, run a finger across his jaw. "How are you feeling?"

They're practically in his lap, sitting astride his hips, "what?" He's dumbstruck. "What did you ask?"

"I asked," they lick their lips again, continue caressing his cheek. "How are you feeling?" Their eyes are unwavering and so close.

"I'm- I don't- I don't even know?" But his torso begins to burn reminding him of his injuries and his unanswered questions. He shakes free from their trance, "who are you besides my supposed lover that's not my type?" 

They move off of him, adjust their hair and silky black blouse. Louis had sex with this person? Being? Whatever? And they bit him? On his thigh!? 

But the question remains, who bottomed?

"I tried to murder you, Louis, by the bar."

His heart stutters, "why?"

They shrug, "you have a great ass."

"You wanted to kill me because of my ass?"

They chuckle, "no. I wanted to, uh, I wanted to suck-"

"My dick!?"

"No!" They cradle their head, "but I've done that, too." Louis blushes. "I wanted to feed off of you, Louis and chose you because of your ass. I wanted your blood."

He gasps, "m-my, my blood!? Is that what that other guy wanted?" He instinctively touches his wrist. 

"Xander wanted to piss me off actually but I suppose he liked your taste."

He puffs his cheeks, "Xander? My taste? Oh my God I have to be dreaming."

"You're not Louis. This has been your reality for a while you just had your memory altered."

"What!?" His tears surface once more, "holy shit. And now I forgot? Xander or whoever wanted to piss you off and nearly sucked all my blood out!? Is that why I'm here?"

But they don't respond, they remain silent.

"Right? And who hurt my abdomen? It hurts."

"Your rib cage to be exact," they murmur.

"Oh," he stares at the being before him, realizes how beautiful they actually are. 

"Xander did that, possibly on purpose I don't know but he was preventing me from saving you."

"Saving me? Why?"

"I almost killed you, again, for a third time-  _ fuck _ ," they abruptly stand, begin pacing. "Three times, Louis. I almost took your life  _ three _ fucking times!"

"But I-"

"I don't even like the way you taste! I hate your blood actually. It repulses me, makes my stomach clench and mouth tingle with nausea."

"But you stopped. I'm here!" He attempts to reassure and why? Why does he care about this man-thing?

They make eye contact with Louis, reveal red rimmed eyes, "doesn't mean I can't do it again by accident. I'm a monster."

"You are?" 

"Don't let my good looks, that you're not a fan of, fool you."

"I'm confused-"

"I'm what folks call a vampire."

His skin prickles, " _ what _ ? They don't exist!"

"They do because I exist and you've been fucking one for three months."

"I don't believe you!" Louis tears up, begins to sob, "you're just lying-"

"Louis, why would I lie to you?"

"Because I've never met you! I don't know who you are, I don't know your name!"

"Harry," they say.

"What!?"

"My name, Louis."

He grips his hair, "it's Louis, too!?" 

They roll their eyes, "no! It's Harry."

"Oh," he swipes at his nose. "Oh, Harry-"

"Don't say it," he rushes out.

"Wait why?"

"I'll…"  _ Harry _ approaches him, sits besides him on the bed. "I'd like it too much."

"Right. So, I can imagine when we had sex you liked when I screamed it."

Harry grins, "well, you never knew it until now."

"Why?"

"You and your inquisitive mind!" Harry touches his cheek again, runs his thumb along Louis' soft skin, "I should have just left you alone."

"I want to say I'm glad you didn't but then I'd be lying," Louis says.

"Yeah I know," Harry leans forward. "Louis-"

"Hi," it's the pale girl from earlier. 

Harry drops his hand, "hey Sarah."

"We have to get him home before dawn."

"Right," Harry stands. "I can carry him."

"Wait why before dawn?" Louis asks.

"Have you read up on your folklore, Louis?" Harry takes his hand.

Louis looks between Harry and the lady, Sarah, "you sparkle?"

"Not exactly," Harry corrects.

**H**

"So what exactly happens when you go in the sun?" Louis asks.

Harry drove them back to Louis' house which turned out to be an opportune moment to explain what's happened between them, how Louis was his  _ vessel _ , especially about his accident with Mitch. He was honest for the most part, explained his complicated relationship with Xander but left out his fate, his very unfortunate fate that he agreed to. For Louis. 

What's the point? Louis won't care. Harry's not his type.

He told Louis how he spoke to Ms. Boyle, too, kept her company before he arrived home, talked about Louis of course and how he tended to get too stressed out with work and disliked his habit of bringing random men back. Harry voiced his opinion too, but he can't claim something that isn't his. Some nights he even went as far as walking her home. She was a lovely woman and he'll miss their conversations since his list of friends was dwindling into nothing.

"I'd combust into flames, Lou," Harry helps Louis into bed. He can't begin to look at his puncture wounds, the black and blues on Louis' torso, the damage he caused. He feels awful. Thankfully Louis decided to keep his boxers on this time.

For another reason as well but he must refrain.

"So you don't sparkle?" He reaches for Harry's hand, grips it tightly. 

The warmth is unmistakable, "no, Lou and there isn't a pack of wolves looking to maul me." 

"That's good," Louis grins. "For your sake that is."

"I have something far worse coming my way," he mumbles to himself. He shivers, grips Louis' hand tighter.

"So  _ Harry _ , what are you doing for the night?"

Harry sits at the foot of the bed just like that first night he was here, "I had no plans." But they weren't holding hands.

He was looking to leave. And he fucking should have.

"You don't have to, you know" -Louis blushes- "get dinner?"

He frowns, "I took plenty tonight."

"You did?" Louis' sitting up, gripping his hand,  _ still _ . 

"Yes, Louis. Remember how I almost killed you?" He says, his tone curt. 

"Yeah but that was Xander's fault! Not yours," Louis scoots closer.

"Doesn't matter, I should have known."

"Just like how you marked me?"

He glances at Louis, "I swear I didn't mean to. I never thought it could be possible to do. But I suppose I made that connection when I saved you."

"And you saved me tonight," Louis is next to him now, looking to him, his eyes never leaving his face. "Thanks for that."

"Don't thank me. It's my fault this happened in the first place."

He touches Harry's smooth cheek with his free hand, closes the distance between them, whispers against his lips, "it's your fault for not being my type." Louis kisses him then, loops his arms around his neck, holds him so close reminding him of the heat he desired, the heat that he could savor in all night.

Harry reciprocates of course, runs eager fingers across Louis' warm skin, tastes the side of him he's craved from day one, "this is probably not the best of ideas." He suppresses the desire to bite, wills his fangs to not elongate. This isn't feeding time. This is something more, a mistake. Another mistake!

But they continue on anyway, hold one another as their fingers explore, touch and memorize. For Harry, this isn't new, this is familiar, comfortable, so warming but for Louis? He's learning. He's kissing Harry for the first time, his hesitancy is noticeable.

And he doesn't mind. He wants Louis to remember this as their first time, not Harry biting him in an alleyway and making him scream from the pain he caused. 

Louis' blood is pumping loudly in his ears, the steady rhythm of his heart too, the life just beneath his fingers beckoning to him. His instincts want him to attack, to taste Louis' blood, suck him dry, to bite him.

Oh and it's taking every ounce of willpower to not lash out, to strike, to latch onto Louis' perfect neck lined with Harry's bite marks. He wants to mark Louis again, puncture his beautiful skin, savor in those sweet noises he makes when he begs Harry for more.

He can see it now, Louis on all fours, his plump ass in his face, and Harry's teeth sinking into the soft flesh-

He grips Louis' waist, pushes him onto his back, traps his arms above his head. He's beyond aroused, so ready to sink into this impeccable human, feel every inch he is able, and make Louis scream with abandon.

But Louis welcomes him like an invitation, thrusts up into him, begs with the batting of his eyelashes and the swaying of his hips.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Harry lies flush against him then, presses himself into Louis proving just how excited he's become.

"No, you're not my type, remember?" Louis' eyes are completely dilated though, his blue irises nearly black. 

"You're a shit liar," he leans down, eliminates any and all space between their bodies, keeping in mind Louis' wounded ribcage. 

Now he wishes he was naked.

Louis pulses his hips forward, his large bulge pressing into Harry's lower abdomen, "you're a shit vampire." 

Harry bares his fangs without thought, "am I?"

"If you're trying to scare me, it's not working," Louis wiggles his bottom. "If I allowed you to bite me in the past, I'm sure I thought this was hot."

"You did," Harry presses his lips against Louis' neck, begins kissing him slowly, imagines how he'll make Louis scream and cry out. He would avoid biting him though. He should avoid all of this!

"Don't keep me waiting," Louis begs. "I wanna peel you out of those pants with my teeth." 

He presses himself further down, listens to the sweet groans as they escape Louis' delicious mouth. Harry's time is limited, just a couple of hours left to be exact. He wanted it to be memorable for both of them, a moment he would be able to enjoy over and over.

He sits back up, begins unbuttoning his shirt, "Louis, I'm going to fuck you from now until dawn. I hope you're up for the challenge." 

Louis' eyes widen what looks to be fear, but much to Harry's chagrin, his mouth tugs into a grin, "my ass is yours."

**L**

And Louis' ass was Harry's until the sun painted the sky a deep purple, the indication that dawn was almost upon them, the start of a new day and he didn't get a wink of sleep. He was so sore, completely fucked out, exhausted from shouting Harry's name so loudly his voice is raspy and dry. 

But he didn't care. Louis wants him in his bed every night and not just for a fuck session. No, he wants Harry as his companion. Which is utterly ridiculous.

He's a vampire.

Louis is lying down facing a still naked Harry, his toned chest and slim torso on full display. The scarring of bite marks and scratches frighten him, the length too, the location. What exactly caused it? Or who? Should he ask?

"They're from Xander," Harry states as if he could read his thoughts.

Louis grimaces, "what did he do?" He instinctively reaches for a particular scar extending from his groin to his chest right below his neck.

But Harry doesn't even flinch. He remains calm and collected, unfeeling almost, "he wanted to gut me and was almost successful, too." 

Louis sputters, "what!? Why!"

"He's psychotic," Harry admits. "I wanted to leave him and he couldn't handle the rejection I suppose."

"Oh," Louis traces along the scar with his finger. "Is he the jealous type?"

"That's why you have broken ribs," Harry smashes his face into a pillow. "He was jealous of Mitch, too. But this happened when I was still human."

Louis nearly chokes on his tongue, "human!?"

"He's a piece of shit," Harry spits. "His actions don't surprise me anymore, especially him biting you. I was certain he'd take your life but I suppose he finally grew a conscience. Somewhat."

Louis inches closer to him, "does he still act this way towards you? Or are these all from when you were human?" He finds so many bite marks, jagged wounds that are upraised, healed over with scar tissue. It reminds him of a road map. "That must have been so painful."

"It's nothing compared to what he's done after he made me immortal."

His stomach twists, "he's done worse?"

"Yes. He uses silver."

Louis wrinkles his nose, "the metal?"

"Yeah, undead humans like myself are greatly affected by it. It doesn't kill us but it weakens, immobilizes, makes us so delirious. It also prevents you from healing properly since your body is trying to conserve resources. And if you're not feeding? Well, the effects are worse," Harry reveals his wrist, the flesh just now healing over a sunken wound as if a chunk of flesh was ripped away, "he lodged a piece right here, on my other wrist and in the back of my legs between the bone and muscle." He tucks his hand beneath his head. "It's nothing new and you'd think I'd become accustomed to it but it's fucking painful."

"Why does he do it then?"

"Xander felt  _ ignored _ because I wasn't at his beck and call."

Louis' eyebrows spring up, "ignored?" 

"Yup," Harry sighs. "He's a selfish bastard and can't take the hint that I've moved on. So he holds me captive, starves me, does unimaginable things to teach me a  _ lesson _ ."

Louis gulps, "so killing me would be a lesson to you?"

Harry rolls onto his back, reaches for Louis' outstretched hand, "he's been in love with me for three centuries, he'd hit where it hurts the most."

"I mean I'd go for the lads. A nice swift kick would do the trick."

Harry snorts, "he's done that, too trust me." But his humor is gone then, replaced with sadness and discontent. "He's done it all, opened old wounds, made new ones. He's holding onto this crazy notion that I'll eventually settle for him. He's probably Marked me several times, too, which now I know is possible  _ to _ do."

Louis is watching him closely, "he does more than bite you I presume. Hurts you in other ways?" He hates that the question came up and why he decided to voice it. 

Harry turns away, releases his hand, "yes." It was just a whisper.

But Louis caught it, "oh." What else can he say?

"Well, I'm his husband so technically it's not sacrilege," Louis practically vomits. "Although two men being in love would be against the Bible now wouldn't it? So it doesn't fucking matter in the end."

Louis' face pales, "you're _ married _ to him!?"

"Yes. I agreed to it when I was human," Harry mumbles. "I was his vessel for a long time and he wanted to make it official. So we wedded through the underground community and the rest is history."

"I didn't know."

"So I guess I'm  _ really _ not your type, you know fucking a married man."

Louis flops back down on the bed, feels the pains in his ribs, "yeah I suppose but I called that when we were at the hospital."

Harry turns back over, drapes his arm across Louis' belly, "I'm really not your type?" He asks sheepishly.

"At first glance, no but after I got to know you a little better, you're alright," Louis grins.

"You're just fucking with me," Harry inches closer, kisses Louis' neck right below his ear, makes his way towards Louis' lips. At first he believes they'll go at it again but he pulls away, "Louis, I have to go-"

"No!" Louis bolts up right, nearly howls at the pain blooming in his torso. His eyes fill with unshed tears.

"Louis!" Harry reaches for him, wraps his cold fingers around Louis' bicep, "be careful." 

"Damn it," he breathes through the discomfort. "Please don't leave?" He leans into Harry's touch.

"I can't be in the sun, Lou. And it's getting too bright, I'm already feeling the discomfort."

His mind scrambles. Where can he put Harry? "I can shut the blinds."

He shakes his head, "not good enough. Light seeps through-"

"You're not going back to that house!" Louis demands, "you are  _ not  _ going near your Maker ever again. I don't give a shit who he is to you. He hurts you. He's  _ evil _ ."

Harry releases his hold, turns away, "well, Lou there's something I have to tell you, something _ else _ I should say."

Louis feels his face redden, "something  _ else _ ?"

"Yes," He stands from the bed, reaches for his discarded clothes and begins to dress.

What does this mean? What's he not saying? "Alright. I'm ready. I think." Louis slips his boxer briefs back on, covers up the old wounds littering his thighs. Harry didn't bite him, not once, not even a graze. 

He admits it was a relief. He can't associate it with pleasure, only pain and fear especially after last night.

"I…" Harry sits down, faces away. He's gripping his shirt between his fingers, "I made a bargain-"

"Oh, no," Louis' heart sinks. He's staring at Harry's bare back, taking in the marred skin, the scarring. Reflexively, he touches his own neck. 

"It was-" But he stops. 

"Was what?" He lies back down feeling his exhaustion settle. 

"Never mind. I'll just go to the hospital and stay in Sarah's office," he remains closed off, quickly dresses, and stands.

Louis' at a loss, "why not just sleep in the closet or something? I can move my shoes and give you a blanket."

"No, it's fine. I don't want to be a burden," Harry approaches him, leans down and kisses him gently on the lips. "Don't forget your medication."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll be back tonight."

But he never came.

Not the following night either.

Or the one after that.

It's been a week and nothing.

He doesn't know what he's done wrong.

"Hello, dear!" Ms. Boyle greets Louis when he arrives home.

It was Louis' first full week with his new employer and he's been home on time every night so far. And it's not because he chose to, it's because he  _ could _ . It's refreshing. He can make the same amount of money and still have a social life with half the stress.

But now that Harry left him high and dry, he wanted to be at the office late to occupy his free time especially with Liam and Zayn still under Stringer's scrutiny. He should probably pick up a hobby that doesn't involve random fuck sessions with  _ random _ men.

He wants consistency now. But with an undead human he's technically just met? It's his luck.

"Hello," he loosens his tie, places his backpack on the ground. 

"Ready for dinner?" She asks, her face in a grin, her cheeks bright pink from the heat of the stove.

"Sure," he manages a smile even though his curiosity is eating him alive. He takes off his coat, drapes it across the stool. "So, Ms. Boyle-"

She places a plate down before him, "red curry with peppers, zucchini, and tofu!" 

"Oh, nice. Okay thanks," he reaches for a spoon. "Any rice?"

"Cauliflower to be exact!" She scoops a portion of  _ rice _ onto his plate, "nice and healthy."

Louis frowns, "I'm not healthy?"

She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, "I may control your food but I can't control your smoking habit, dear."

"Oh," he hides his downturned lips, begins eating in silence.

"Where's your friend been?" Ms. Boyle asks. She begins cleaning the pots and pans, all too joyful to do so.

"Friend?" He takes a decent spoonful, blows on it gently.

"Harry, dear. I haven't seen him in a bit."

He doesn't take a bite though. Instead he holds the spoon steady in his hand, becomes lost in thought. He wishes he knew where Harry was and the thought of him being at that house with his Maker makes him sick. Why does he go back there knowing what a shithead Xander is?

"Me either," he murmurs, takes a tentative bite of his dinner. He doesn't want to eat suddenly, he wants to vomit instead.

Ms. Boyle is at the sink, but Louis is able to feel her eyes on the top of his head, "you look sad, dear. Did you two have an argument?"

His eyes well, his stomach aches from the pain of his ribcage, but he knows the tears are for something else, "he said he would come back but never did."

"Oh, Louis," Ms. Boyle turns the water off. "What happened?"

He shrugs, "something bad, possibly, but I can't stop it."

She takes a seat next to him, "you can, Louis. You  _ are _ capable of stopping it.

"No, Ms. Boyle. This time I can't. It's probably impossible," he's just a human going after a vampire who's hundreds of years old.

"If you seek the help of others, Louis, you can accomplish anything. Keep that in mind," she informs. 

He wants to tell her the truth but this is not for him to share, "I know you're trying to help me but this  _ is _ impossible. I'm not kidding."

She turns to him, touches his forearm, her grip firmer than he expected, "Harry needs you, Louis." Louis finally gazes over at her pinched features. "His Maker is an evil man." He almost collapses off the stool! "Yes, dear I know his secret. He told me when I suspected foul play."

"I'm confused-"

"Your sheets, dear."

Louis blushes, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, I've been around a few of them in my time," she stands back up, smooths out her maroon cardigan. "My vocal coach to be exact." Louis listens intently, eats his dinner before it gets cold. "She was very friendly. They all are. And so is Harry."

Louis' heart flutters, "he is. Very friendly indeed." 

"That's why you have to help him, dear."

"But how!?" He grips his hair. 

She grins, her cheeks even more pink than before, "round up your friends. I'm sure they can assist."

"Zayn and Liam?" 

"Not humans, dear. Vampires."

**H**

Harry prayed for the fog, the numbing, the lack of sensation but it never came. He was lying completely bare on Xander's bed, the metal once again lodged in his wrists and on the backs of his thighs. 

The usual.

But he wasn't losing his lucidity. He wasn't being starved. He wasn't becoming a  _ monster _ ! Xander was force feeding him, he was remaining coherent and utterly miserable. 

**L**

"So basically you're telling me vampires are real?" Liam asks.

Louis nods, "yes. You and Zayn knew about them too but our memories were wiped clean by Harry."

"Harry, the vampire you were supposedly bedding on occasion?" Zayn takes a sip from his drink.

"Uh-huh," Louis nods. "You and Liam both witnessed a girl being sucked dry at a Halloween party a few years ago. That gave you the sight because you were never glamoured and therefore knew I was a vessel."

Liam and Zayn share a knowing look, their expressions confirming they don't believe him.

"And now you want us to help you save Harry from his so called Maker?" Zayn hides his grin behind his glass.

"With two other vampires you met the night you nearly died?" Liam finishes. 

Louis blushes, "yes." 

He spoke with his two friends for over an hour, explained the situation to the best of his ability, attempted to convince them that these undead humans exist. But it's proving to be more difficult than he thought. He was thinking about asking Ms. Boyle to help convince these two jackasses.

"If you don't want to then fine but I need to help him. He's probably suffering and I need to do something about it!"

"But if this dude is as fast and powerful as you claim, how can we stand up to him?" Liam asks a valid question.

"You two would be the distraction," Louis confirms although he was nervous of putting them in harm's way. 

Zayn rolls his eyes, "we'd be the bait!?"

"Uh…" Louis falls silent.

"That's  _ wonderful _ !" Liam whines.

"Hey you don't believe me so what's it matter!?"

"Well I-" Liam shrugs "-I'm not completely opposed to the idea. Anything is possible."

Zayn looks between them, "seriously? Do you guys hear yourselves?"

"We can go to the hospital, maybe Sarah and Niall can prove it to you," Louis suggests. "It doesn't hurt!"

"It might after what you told us!" Liam cries.

Louis sits back in his chair, recounts the moment just before passing out when Harry nearly took his life. He was so frightened and never felt more alone.

That's what hurt the most.

That's why he has to save Harry. He is probably experiencing the same emotions, "look I understand if you don't want to come but I have to. Someone I really care about is probably in trouble-"

" _ Probably _ ? So you don't know for sure?" Zayn questions pointedly. 

Louis sighs, "when I was at the hospital, I heard Harry saying something about not seeing anyone again, someone called the  _ The Boss _ was involved too, and his Maker which now I know is Xander. He made a bargain of some sort." He gets the chills suddenly as if someone is watching him. He immediately looks to the bar but no one is there. 

"A bargain?" Liam asks.

"Uh-huh, a bargain. And now I can't help but think he's trapped."

"What does this bargain entail?" 

He shakes his head, "dunno. I was gonna ask Sarah and Niall."

"What if they don't tell you?" Zayn asks, "what's going to happen then?"

He's already made up his mind, "I'm going to the house and helping Harry on my own."

His friend's face falls, all the antagonizing and light-heartedness gone in a matter of seconds, "you can't! If this Xander dude is as dangerous as you claim-"

"It seems worth it to me," Louis shrugs.

"But what will you do?" Liam whispers.

"They hate sunlight."

**H**

When Harry managed to sleep, he dreamt of sunlight, blue skies, and warm sand. It was his paradise, it was his escape, it was his mind conjuring the most precious human in the form of a landscape. 

He was losing it.

"Oh, good you're awake!" Xander's voice rings through his ears, chills him to his already chilled bones. He just mumbles, having no desire to do much else. "And here I thought you'd be more lucid, you know with the blood and all." 

He stares straight ahead at the recessed ceiling, following the lines that are in a checkerboard pattern. It's a lovely feature. And with the light from the chandelier reflecting-

Harry's slapped harshly across the face, the sting burning his cold cheek. He wishes it didn't make him flinch.

"Memorizing the specks of dust on the walls?" Xander's in his field of vision suddenly. He remains silent. " _ Well _ ?" 

"Maybe," he manages but everything hurts suddenly as if the discomfort from his cheek ricocheted through his limbs igniting the pain once again. He's helpless.

"Sounds dull," Xander pouts. "If you weren't looking to tear my head off, I would consider allowing you free reign around the bedroom."

He diverts his gaze, "yeah and lock the doors with silver padlocks? Use silver doorknobs!?" His anger surges then masking the pain. "Sprinkle silver dust across the fucking floor!?"

"Actually that's not a bad idea-"

"Fuck you," he spits. "I'd rather lie here then willingly give myself over to you." He bites his tongue because he did just that, didn't he?

Xander cackles, grips his chest in a fit of laughter, "but my love, you  _ have _ ! You did give yourself over to me, willingly, for that stupid human. You made your bed, Harry. Now you must  _ lay _ in it. Oh wait! You already are " He steps away. "You need more blood,  _ honey _ . You're getting a little pale."

"I don't want it," he sulks, turns away towards the boarded up window. "I don't want anything from you."

"You didn't say that a few nights ago. If I recall you begged for it."

No. He was lost in a moment of weakness when Louis' sweet face came to mind. But he'll allow Xander to think what he wants.

**L**

"Hi," Louis waves to the brown haired lady. "I wasn't sure if you-"

"Louis! How are you?" Sarah opens the door wider, welcomes him in. "Who are they?" She gestures towards Liam and Zayn who are stone faced as they take in her ethereal features.

Yes, she's essentially perfect so he understands the attraction. 

"My good friends. Can they come in, too?"

"Sure," she grins.

"They're not for dinner," he reminds. "They're here to help me with something, although I'm hoping you can assist, too."

"Oh God," Liam cries. "I don't wanna get my blood sucked!"

Sarah shakes her head, "you don't have to worry-"

Niall comes barreling in, "what's that smell!" He licks his lips. "Dinner?"

Zayn and Liam shriek in unison.

"Niall!" Sarah scolds, "no! These are Louis' friends. They're not for consumption."

Zayn grips his midsection, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Louis drapes his arm across his shoulders, "it's fine. They won't hurt you."

"The dude has this look in his eye. I don't trust him," Liam whispers.

"Can we get on with it please? I  _ am _ on the clock," Sarah redirects their attention.

Louis blushes, "I'm sorry." 

"How are you feeling?" She asks.

"Physically better, emotionally distraught."

"I meant, do you feel  _ anything _ ? Have you felt compulsions?"

Unfortunately he hasn't. Xander broke the connection, "no and I don't know where he is. I'm worried he went to the house with his Maker."

Sarah clears her throat, "well Louis, there's something-"

"He made a bargain for your life," Niall blurts.

Louis sits back in his chair, grips his linked fingers, "he what?"

Sarah sighs, "he did."

His eyes mist, " _ why _ though? Why can't he just walk away and never go back?"

"He can't," Niall says. "He may deny it, but Harry's attached to his Maker."

Liam taps Louis' shoulder, "the evil dude?" Louis nods. "Got it. That explains why he can't move on."

"It explains why he's living with him," Louis adds.

"I know the feeling. I felt that way too! But I was married so it would have been awkward living with him," Niall finishes.

"But you went right back to him when we argued," Sarah reveals. "In the end, it's inevitable. A fledgling needs their Maker, whether it be for a sense of comfort and familiarity or for intimacy or both."

Louis' cheeks redden, "so you're saying-"

"Harry has needs you can't satisfy," Niall says and it hurts more than it should. 

Louis nearly hurls all over himself, "got it. I'll never be enough."

Sarah shakes her head, "that's not entirely true. If they're separated long enough, the feeling will subside eventually. It may take a while-"

"How long?" Louis asks all too eagerly.

"One hundred years or so," Niall says. 

"One  _ hundred _ !?" He cradles his head, "I'll be dead!!"

"Yeah, I was attached to Harry in the beginning. It got a little awkward actually," Niall recollects. "I think he hated me for a bit, compared me to a vessel, said I was very clingy and annoying just like Eleanor!"

Sarah nudges him, "you  _ were _ annoying that's why I locked you in the basement at  _ my _ home, away from him. You're better now unless you're not telling me something?" She accuses.

But Niall shakes his head, "nope! Totally over it."

"So is it worth it then?" Louis asks solemnly, "is it worth it for me to save him if in the end, and underneath it all, he's content?" 

"No,  _ The Boss _ isn't someone Harry should be around," Sarah says.

" _ The Boss _ is Xander!?" Louis is unable to believe it, "what's he the boss of!?"

"Harry," Sarah deadpans. "Xander is malicious, evil, narcissistic. He only thinks of himself and having a young, attractive man within arms reach only feeds into it."

Louis' interest is piqued, "how do you know?" 

"I'm Xander's Maker."

"What!?" The four of them shriek in unison.

Sarah just nods, "and boy do I regret it."

"You never told me, your  _ husband _ , about this!" Niall seems offended, "why didn't you stop me from going to that house!?"

"More importantly, why have you never stopped Xander?" Louis' questions are bombarding him, "why did you allow Harry to give himself over to this cruel man when you knew you could stop it? Why didn't you stake Xander sooner!? 

But Sarah remains neutral, calm, "what they do behind closed doors is their business. I was unaware of the harshness of Xander's actions-"

Louis stands up, nearly knocks over the chair, "Harry's  _ body _ says it all! He's covered in scars!"

"Have you looked at yours?" Sarah asks. 

"I…" he sits back down ashamed, "but it's bad."

"Of course it's bad but we all have our preferences," she says. 

"Imprisoning someone against their will isn't a preference!" Louis cries, "it's not something Harry wants, trust me!"

"I do! Louis I do trust you and I trust what you're telling me is the truth. But I want to let you know killing off Harry's Maker might be more problematic than beneficial."

"But why? Harry wants him gone!"

"Harry was more than Xander's vessel-"

"They're married," Louis says. "I know-"

"And Xander is in love with him, marked him over and over, basically intermingled their existences," Sarah confesses. "I know this only because the disconnect between Xander and I."

Zayn puffs his cheeks, "this is all too much."

"So basically there's nothing we can do to help?" Liam asks.

"If we kill  _ The Boss _ , it'll kill Harry?" Niall questions, his anxiety palpable. "I think that's a bad idea."

"Oh no," Louis sinks in his seat. 

"Not necessarily but again, I've lost touch with Xander about a century or two ago," Sarah confirms. "I could be wrong."

"How old are you?" Louis asks.

Sarah giggles, "that's a question you should never ask a woman."

But Louis isn't laughing, he's serious, "I understand that but you're able to overtake Xander. You're stronger if you're his Maker."

She nods, "I am. And I want to help Harry as much as you. But I also don't want to see any of you-" she eyes the three humans "-get hurt. Xander is a ruthless man. He  _ will _ kill you."

Louis shivers at the memory, the harshness, the  _ fangs _ , "I know first hand. I'm shocked he didn't suck me dry."

"You're very lucky, Louis but he also had other uses for you. And you're not dead, yet," she adds.

Louis gulps, "oh."

"Right now you're who Harry fancies. I wouldn't put it past him to try again if given the chance," Sarah turns to Niall. "I'll need to go and see what I can do."

Niall frowns, "wait but I should go with you-"

"I'm going!!" Louis raises his hand, "I am  _ not _ sitting at home waiting. I've done plenty of that."

"If you wish," Sarah checks her watch. "I get off in an hour. Let's meet out front then we'll discuss our next step."

**H**

Xander's sipping at his glass, savoring in the black liquid as if it's a delicacy, as if he's never tasted it before. But he's feasted on Harry's blood in the past, never tires of it. 

It makes him sick.

Harry's staring at the ceiling, admiring the chandelier and the cobwebs. It's become his source of entertainment, watching a spider create it's masterpiece across the arms and crystal prisms. It's an intricate design and so beautiful. 

"Enjoying the dust?" His Maker's voice breaks the silence.

"More than you," he snaps.

"You used to crave my attention," Xander approaches, grips his chin forcing their eyes to meet. "Now you're more interested in the dusty decor."

"Time changes a person," he whispers. "Educates them, makes them wiser and unpredictable. It makes them realize what holds them back, what's  _ toxic _ , who to avoid and when to move the _ fuck _ on." 

Xander releases his hold, steps back, "funny how you believe  _ you've _ moved on, since you continue making the same mistakes." His Maker is grinning but there's no humor, it's evil. 

"The pot calling the kettle black," he mumbles. 

He's tired of this conversation, tired of Xander, tired of  _ living _ . He wishes now the choice of becoming immortal was his own. He would have died peacefully hundreds of years ago.

And Mitch wouldn't have died prematurely. Louis would be safe.

In the end it was his doing. He could blame Xander for it but maybe if he simply stayed with his Maker, he wouldn't have become involved with the living on a personal level, he wouldn't have craved the warmth or the desire to be human again. He would have followed his instincts and avoided temptation all together.

"Oh! I feel that human of yours," Xander shivers. "He's a relentless pain in the ass."

Harry glares at his Maker, " _ feel _ ?" His skin prickles.

Xander begins to cackle, the laughter reverberating throughout the room, "you didn't know!?" 

His wrists and legs begin to throb, "didn't know  _ what _ !" He growls. 

"I marked him."

**L**

Louis left the hospital with Zayn and Liam, said his goodbyes to his friends and decided to head to the twenty-four hour drug store for cigarettes. He was feeling antsy suddenly, anxious, so disturbed he didn't know how to calm his nerves.

He felt a compulsion in his gut, in his heart and it's directing him to the house.  _ The house _ . And it's physically impossible to sit still, to deny the emotions consuming him, to deny the enchantment drawing him in! 

He takes a drag from his fourth cigarette, shakes his leg, "keep it together. Keep it together!" His neck begins to throb, too. The very place Harry marked him. But it was broken right? Their connection?

But what if it wasn't? What if Harry was still able to reach out to him? What if he's reaching out to Louis  _ now _ and needs him!? 

Louis groans aloud, plays this tug of war in his head but he fears it's a losing battle. The compulsion is far too great, too powerful, and in his mind he is only able to see Harry calling to him, begging for him to save his life.

He has to go!

**H**

"Let me go!" Harry shouts at his Maker, "you went against our bargain!"

Xander continues to cackle, "but I haven't! This was done  _ before _ you begged me to save his life."

He's fighting against his stiff limbs, attempting to overcome the silver, "when I'm able to get my hands on you, I swear I'll tear you to fucking pieces!"

His Maker is in his face then, cupping his cold cheeks, "I'd love to see you try."

**L**

Louis' outside the house once more, the memories of his last visit giving him so much anxiety he wants to run and hide. The compulsion is suffocating too, cinching his throat closed, reminding him of the helplessness he felt when Xander held him captive.

Is this really Harry calling for him? Why does it feel foreign? Why does he feel like a bug that's about to be squashed? Will he survive the night? Why did he decide to come here  _ alone _ !?

The large black door swings open, the creaking of its hinges piquing his already skyrocketing anxiety, "I knew you would decide to change your mind!" Louis finds Harry's Maker, the man who wants him dead,  _ The Boss _ .

He's petrified, frozen in place!  _ Oh no.  _

He's wearing a silk, blood red robe and black slacks. His chest is bare underneath, revealing porcelain-like, unblemished skin. It's unlike Harry's in every way. It's smooth. It's inviting. It's perfection. There's not a mark to be seen, not even two puncture holes. It makes Louis wonder if he was ever bitten but then he realizes Sarah turned him, so it's probably hidden. But where?

He's holding a rocks glass filled with the same strange liquid he was sipping on last time. Louis wonders if it's blood. Harry's blood. Or a human's? What is he savoring now?

Louis shrieks but is quickly pulled inside like a rag doll, his sneakered feet a good foot off the ground. The door slams shut behind him, encloses him inside like a prisoner.

He looks around, takes in the decor and deep purple wallpaper, notes a small floor lamp with a ripped shade in the corner and dated copper sconces flanking an oval mirror. Seated right underneath is a teared wingback armchair embellished with splatters of crimson. Artwork lines the walls as well, faces of individuals who look to be from the 1700's. It's as if the exterior of the home was modernized to match the neighborhood while the inside never saw as much as a paint brush and a feather duster.

He hates it here.

"So lovely to see your face again, Louis," Xander's voice is sweet and sour, pleasant yet frightening. He's friendly for all the wrong reasons. He's a  _ predator _ . "I was hoping you'd stop by sooner-"

There's a shout on the other side of the home shaking the frames lining the walls, "wh-what's that?" Although he already knows. Unless Xander has humans here being held captive? Would he do that? 

What the fuck was Louis thinking, of course he would!

"I think you have an idea, dear Louis," Xander looks to him with a megawatt smile, revealing white teeth and enhanced incisors. It reminds Louis of an evil clown just without the rainbow wig and red nose. "So as I was saying-"

The door swings open, the force of the wind pushing Louis over and nearly onto his hands and knees, but a hand reaches for his black bomber jacket, pulls him backwards against a cold surface. The movement was blinding, unnaturally quick, the speed making his head spin and mouth tingle with nausea.

He's about to stand up when he realizes there's a frigid hand encircling his throat ready to snap him in two, a second hand resting on his back with claws at the ready.

"Xander," the voice sounds familiar but his head is foggy.

"Let him go!" Another one.

"Why hello!"  _ The Boss's _ voice is close, too close, very close.  _ Oh shit he has Louis! _ "Haven't seen you in ages, my lovely Maker."

Louis shakes his head to focus, finds Sarah and Niall standing just a few feet away.

Sarah's looking between them as if calculating her next move. She seems to be holding something as well, "I see you've gotten into more trouble than I thought possible. You'll always be a menace, I presume."

Xander cackles, "I'm simply claiming what's mine." He squeezes Louis' neck, the action making him choke and splutter. He fights off Harry's Maker as best as he is able to, pushes back, kicks out his legs! 

"Last I checked, Louis isn't _ yours _ ," Sarah continues to take in her surroundings. 

"Wh-where-" Louis coughs, "where is-"

"Our dear Harry is someplace safe, no need to worry about him, I can guarantee," Xander's hold is relentless.

"I don't know," Niall speaks up, rubs at his wrists, "I'm getting a bad feeling."

"Nonsense! Harry's being tended to, cared for. He's never been more relaxed,"  _ The Boss _ assures but it's all a lie! It has to be! 

Sarah takes a step forward, "right. So Xander, quit the act and release your fledgling or you'll meet an unfortunate fate."

Xander snorts, "last I checked,  _ Sarah _ , I had Harry's pretty boy-" the grip on Louis' neck tightens, his airway now cinched shut "-and we all know what Louis means to him." Louis kicks out his legs, struggles against the undead human. 

"Yes but last _ I _ checked, I was a little older than you." 

"And what does-"

Louis' suddenly on the floor, his back stinging from Xander's claws raking Louis' skin. But his neck is free, his airways released, he feels almost normal! But the shouting from the other side of the house catches his attention, seeps into his bones. 

"H-Harry?" But his abdomen is burning now, "wh-what's happening?"

"Louis!" He hears Sarah, "go find Harry!"

His body feels like lead, the motion making him ill, he doesn't know if he could stand never mind search this haunted mansion for Harry!

" _ Niall _ , help him!" Sarah continues to shout. She sounds strained, almost like she's holding onto something and struggling to contain it.

"Come on, Louis. Up you go," Niall grips his arms and lifts him onto his wobbly feet.

Louis finds Xander bleeding from his stomach and a large stake protruding from his abdomen. Sarah has a firm grip on him as well as the makeshift weapon to hold him steady, "woah." He's shocked. "She's got some muscles-"

"Louis!!" Sarah shouts.

Niall points to the staircase, "check upstairs! That's where his room is."

Louis nods, finds Xander once more and he's grinning a bloody grin, his face twisted, his features becoming grayer as the seconds pass.

"Hurry!!" It's Sarah.

"Sorry!" He follows Niall's instructions, pushes past the discomfort, and begins his search. 

The hallway is poorly lit making this task even more difficult then Louis thought possible. Hundreds of burning candles run along the floor against the walls, casting shadows that elongate the hallway giving a nightmarish appearance. He's literally in a horror movie, moving past closed doors and listening for the occasional agonized scream, walking into darkness. If it weren't for the faint voices coming from the entryway, he would believe he was alone.

"Oh my God," he squints past the blackness in hopes of finding the right door and not accidentally opening up the  _ wrong _ door. "Harry-" The shout he hears makes him jump back and into the wall. Louis knocks over a candle or two or three, the wax flicking onto his sneakers and exposed ankles, "oh, oh fuck."

It's the door before him. It is. Harry is there.

He approaches slowly, hears Harry struggling and crying out as if in pain. "Harry!!" He attempts to turn the door handle but it's slippery. He pulls his hand away and it's crimson _.  _ "Fuck, that's-" There's more unbridled shouting, the noise going straight to his heart and seeping into his bones. "Harry! Harry it's me! Open up!" 

" _ Please _ !!" He cries.

Louis slams on the door with his body, tries to turn the bloodied knob. He's freaking out and beyond sickened by the sight and smell but he has to succeed, he can't leave Harry like this. 

The door eventually gives and he flies into the room and collapses to the floor. "Oh!" 

Harry's crying is raw, his pain evident.

"It's me- what the fuck?" 

Louis looks up, finds an arbor bed in the center of the room, the silhouette of a human behind a gauzy, blood stained fabric hung along the iron frame, it's edges frayed and warn. They lack movement though, just their head whipping back and forth as if to stave off the pain.

There's a puddle of black liquid on the floor, dripping from the sheets, and soaking into the floorboards. There are  _ more _ candles throughout the room as well, the smell overpowering the metallic scent of blood and the bodies decomposing underneath the bed frame-

Louis shrieks, shuffles backwards at the sight of lifeless humans crammed into the small space. The smell is now evident, the rotting flesh and corpses, the  _ grey, murky eyes _ staring back at him. And it's  _ everywhere _ and on him!

"Holy fuck!!" He continues to blink in an attempt to clear his thoughts of what he's witnessing, "holy- h-holy-" but this is reality!

"Stop them!  _ Please _ !!" 

"Harry!!" He scurries to his feet, runs over to him, disregards the bodies within inches of his now bloodied sneakers. He pushes the curtain aside and it's far worse than he ever suspected. He wants to comment, cry out, do something! But he's speechless.

Louis finds Harry lying on the bed completely naked, covered in fresh cuts and bite marks, his neck especially. Gaping puncture wounds run along his collarbone from shoulder to shoulder, some deeper than others and gruesome in general, their placement intentional no doubt. 

His face is pale, stained black from his tears, his features pinched as if staving off the aches and pains. His arms and legs are motionless, his curly hair matted against his forehead and stained pillow. He's lying in blood, some fresh, some old, some that probably doesn't belong to him. Either way, it's all over.

Harry looks to him, his green irises consuming him from the inside out. He looks pained, "if, if they don't stop-" he cries out again and this time Louis' able to feel it, too.

The subtleness in his gut is alarming because what is he feeling? Why is the discomfort affecting him? Louis swipes at his wet cheeks, "stop  _ what _ ? What's happening!?" He touches Harry's freezing hand, grips his fingers on instinct.

"They- s-someone-" Harry's teeth chatter, "killing, killing Xander! Who's-"

"Sarah is! She's his Maker. She's trying to save you!" He explains.

Harry only cries harder, louder, more painful than before, "n-no, no! No!" 

Louis is watching him closely, checking over his marred skin and the blood that's pooling beside him, "but he needs to be-"

"H-he, he marked you," Harry struggles. "Y-you may also-"

Louis collapses onto the floor as an ache so intense courses through his veins.

**H**

" _ Louis _ !!" Harry cries at the top of his lungs because he can't do much else. He fights against his useless limbs, pushes past the throbbing in his abdomen, "someone!" He cries out but it's not for him.

He knows Louis wouldn't survive, no human can, even he'll have difficulty overcoming the agony and weeks of recovery. They want to kill off a piece of him, a very integral part of who he is now. 

He'll essentially die and be brought back to life.

There are faint foot falls downstairs, followed by laughter and gurgling, choking, the spatting of something wet hitting the floor. It's his Maker. 

His stomach flares up again and Louis immediately groans on the floor, " _ Lou _ ! Someone! Please!!" There's shouting, more stomping, more hacking, more throbbing. "Save him!!" But no one is coming!? "Please!" He continues.

The shuffling of feet becomes progressively louder, along with shouting and familiar voices.

"Woah! Where did this blood come from!?" Harry hears Niall. 

He didn't realize just how bad it was or how many lives  _ The Boss _ took. But he could guess it was the many vessels he kept in waiting, the humans he called out to for Harry. He fought hard against it but Xander succeeded anyway, fed him unwillingly, kept him sated and coherent. It was anything but satisfying. 

"Get to him!" It's Sarah, "make sure he's alive!"

"He's, he's barely breathing!" Niall confirms, his anxiety evident, "how is he hurt!?"

Xander laughs, the sound seeping into Harry's wary bones, "s-such a weakling." 

" _ Fuck you _ !" Harry shouts.

The curtain is shoved aside and Niall appears, "oh shit!" His blue eyes are wide, frightened at Harry's current state. "This isn't good, not at all!" Is Niall tearing up? "What should I do? I have to help you! Harry-"

But he shakes his head, "never mind me! Save Louis!" He cries. "Please! I'll be fine _ , he won't _ ." He accentuates.

"B-but, but Harry you're hurt! I can't leave you like this!" 

He understands Niall's concern and the hesitancy to put Louis' wellbeing first because what fledgling wants to see their Maker suffer?

Oh wait-

"I understand but if you don't help Lou, he can  _ die _ ! So please, Niall. Help him!"

"How!?" Niall asks, turns to Sarah in search of an answer.

She shakes Xander, the action making Harry's neck ache from the motion, "what did you do?" She seethes. 

Niall bends down, picks Louis up. His eyes are closed, but he's alive, barely.

Harry wants to reach out to him, hold him, do something! "He fucking  _ marked _ him!" He finds his Maker and the bloody mouth, the hunched posture, the stake in his stomach. Now it all makes sense. 

Sarah sighs, "Niall, you'll have to mark Louis to break the connection."

"Me!?" Niall is holding onto Louis' weakened body, his head listing to the side. Harry is able to take in his whitened features and it's worse than the pain in his stomach.

Nothing comes close.

Niall frowns, "wait, I have to-"

"Quit stalling and do it!" Sarah shouts at him, "once it's done, he'll wake up. Now do it!"

"But he'll follow  _ me _ !"

Harry tears up, "he won't. Now please, Niall!! Do this for me?" 

Niall sits down, rests Louis across his lap, "I…" He cradles Louis' head in his arms exposing Harry's puncture wounds, "here?" 

Harry nods once, becomes insanely jealous and protective over  _ his human  _ but this is Niall, "yes." He trusts him. "Don't take too much." 

"I won't-"

"Don't even think twice-"

"Just go!" Sarah holds Xander back as he struggles in her grasp.

Niall bares his incisors, "here it goes." 

And it hurts more than it should, witnessing Louis be marked by Niall, the very connection Harry wasn't aware existed until he held someone so precious, so warm. To think he wanted to run away, quickly glamour Louis and leave as if he never existed, as if he didn't possess every feature Harry found appealing.

He was fucked from that first glance at the bar.

There's nothing stopping him from seeking Louis out once he's healed. He wants to make things work. He  _ has _ to be with his human for as long as Louis will have him. 

Although the time he'll need to repair is still uncertain. The moment Xander is staked through his heart, Harry may suffer from a heart attack of his own, experience everything as if he too would die.

Or maybe he  _ will _ die?

_ Fuck _ . Should he have done it? Did he make the biggest mistake not tasting his human one last time? 

Xander flinches, pushes at Sarah, "oh look at that! Harry's _ jealous _ ." 

He is, he can't even deny it, "fuck off." Is all he has.

Louis begins to groan his dissatisfaction, pushes at Niall. He seems uninterested, "wh-what?" And  _ not _ excited, much to Harry's relief.

Niall pulls away, swiftly swipes at his mouth, "he's delightful."

Harry wants to lash out at him, kick him in the crotch, suck him dry, leave him out in the sun!! "Stay away!" He sounds frantic and possessive.

Niall drops Louis down on the bed, puts his hands up in surrender, "I will!! I don't- he isn't- I swear-"

"My fucking _ stomach _ hurts," Louis sits up. "What happened?" He blinks his eyes open, finds Niall's mouth smeared with blood. "Oh, no," He looks to Harry next. "What happened!?" He touches his neck. "Awe, come on! I was hoping to be-"

"Sarah, do it!" Harry shouts without hesitation. He's staring at Louis then, holding his gaze for as long as he is able to, preparing mentally for the swelling of pain that will erupt in his abdomen.

"Do what!?" Louis cries.

**L**

Sarah didn't hesitate either. She impales Xander in the chest and through his heart, kills off her own fledgling in order to break a connection years in the making, frees Harry from this undead  _ monster _ .

Blood splatters against the far wall, the wet noise making Louis gag and nearly vomit all over the bed. 

_ The Boss _ begins to gurgle as black liquid spews from his mouth and onto his bare chest, pools around his feet and reflects the small flames from the various candles surrounding him. Life begins to fade from his eyes, becoming dull and nearly translucent. His skin is now an ashen gray and wrinkled as if time caught up to him, as if death was always waiting to welcome him with open arms. 

His limbs lose their once sinewy appearance, become rail thin, and crack under his weight. He folds in on himself, his body decomposing before Louis' very eyes, the murderous man now dried up and nothing but a pile of leathery skin and splintered bones.

This isn't just a death, it'a a relief but still causing anguish for the three vampires, each expressing themselves for different reasons. Louis isn't sure how he should react but suppressing the desire to scream in joy is the right decision.

Sarah is crying, probably held it in as she hurt her own fledgling, is basically the cause for all of this to unfold. And it can't be easy mentally when she's always remained levelheaded.

Niall is crying too but hysterically and that's what catches Louis' attention because why? Why is he so anguished over Xander's death? Did they have a connection too? He looks over, "Niall-" his body goes numb and it all makes sense.

Harry's frigid, wide eyed, staring up at the ceiling and  _ he's not  _ blinking, he isn't moving at all or evening breathing. He's  _ still _ as if he-, as if he-

But how?  _ How _ !? 

Louis shouts then at the possibility, recounts the conversation he had just before coming over here, and it was death. Harry could succumb to the effects, too.  _ That's why Louis felt it too _ . He felt the pain in his stomach where Xander was impaled.

And Harry? 

He tears up, pushes Niall off and nearly collapses onto Harry's frigid body and hugs him close, places his head on his chest, encircles his arms around Harry's abdomen. And he doesn't care about the blood or about the sobbing escaping his mouth or the voices surrounding him!

"Wake up!" He yells, "please wake up!  _ Wake up _ !!" He can't stop, "Harry, please look at me!" Louis hits Harry's chest with his fist, shouts in his face to come to, to show him a sign of life, to give him a sliver of hope.

But Harry never woke up, he remained frozen in Louis' arms staring up at the ceiling, his limbs beside him, his chest unmoving. He was stone, a statue practically. A perfect statue.

"No!" Louis repeated over and over, "no, no, no! You were supposed to be-"

Sarah and Niall easily separated Louis from Harry's body regardless of his pleas and begging, explained to Louis he has to heal internally, that the injuries he sustained are equivalent to what Xander experienced but without the actual weapon.

"S-so he had a heart attack? He has internal injuries?" Louis sobs, "why can't we shock him? Feed him!?" He pulls back his coat, reveals his neck. "Use me.  _ Use me _ ! Please!" He's inconsolable.

"This isn't something you can do, Louis!" Sarah grips his shoulders, steadies him, "he has to heal over time, remember?"

He cries, "I can't wait that long or fathom living my life without him. How do you expect me to do this!? Can't he heal faster?" 

"I don't know how," Niall swipes at his eyes. "I wish there was another way but it's up to Harry."

"How when he can't even communicate!?" Louis shouts.

"Louis, please, I understand you're upset but your yelling will not aid in Harry's healing," Sarah scolds. "We have to remember Harry was well nourished and rested despite his state. He was bleeding but nothing his body couldn't reproduce."

Louis feels a bloom of hope in his chest, "you think?"

"Yeah, if it wasn't for the silver, Harry would have been in good shape," Niall adds. "So it's a possibility it won't be that bad."

"But, we can't get ahead of ourselves," Sarah looks to Louis. "This could take time, I want you to realize that."

"Yeah, he has too much hope," Niall murmurs.

"Shut up!!" Louis snaps, "stop reading my emotions or whatever it is you do! I just want him here with me." He sulks.

"We'll think of something," Sarah assures. "For now, let's get him cleaned up and out of this house."

"He can stay with me," Louis rushes out. "I have a spare room." And because he wants to keep an eye on him and be the first person Harry sees when he awakens.

Niall shakes his head, "what about the sun-"

"I'll get black out curtains, I'll do whatever I have to. I want him with me!" He demands.

And Louis does. 

He prepares the room with Ms. Boyle's help, prevents any light from entering and secured all the tiny cracks that could pose as an issue. He would have placed a tarp over the window outside but his neighbors might get suspicious.

Louis briefly explained to his housekeeper what happened, left out the gory details and the bodies underneath the bed. She agreed wholeheartedly to help out, to change his sheets, to make him vegetable soup for the vampire's soul, blood included. 

Louis wanted to gag, but if it will aid in the healing process, fine! He didn't care.

Sarah and Niall came the following evening to ensure it was sufficient enough, insisted they place a towel underneath the door to be extra cautious. Louis wanted to lash out at them because why on earth would he risk Harry's life? 

He refrained though, concealed his worry and anger, just told them he and Ms. Boyle will take care of him and do what's necessary.

"Just let us know what to do and we'll do it," he points between him and his maid.

"He will need blood," Sarah says as she places Harry down on the spare bed. He was dressed this time in his usual blouse and pants as not to give Ms. Boyle heart palpitations, covered his scars and obvious nudity. He looks ethereal, his skin smooth and pure perfection, his hair full of luscious curls. Thankfully they closed his eyes. "I'll come by every third night-"

Louis shakes his head, "no."

Sarah sits back, eyes him, "no? He has to eat."

"I'll feed him," he insists. "I'll give him my own blood, something fresh. The taste repulses him, he'll know to stop." And maybe remember who he is.

"You're infatuated with him," Sarah reveals the obvious.

"He is and it's nauseating if I'm honest," Niall sounds sickened.

Louis glares at him, "shut up!" He grips his hair. "God, I can't wait for Harry to wake up so he can mark me again."

"Niall was always very in tune with his vessels," Sarah says. 

"Well I don't want him in tune with me! It's awkward."

Niall grimaces, "yeah you're telling me."

Louis stamps his foot, "if I could kick your ass, I would!"

"Boys!! Stop!" Sarah rolls her eyes.

"Hello dears!" Ms. Boyle waltzes in, "oh! That's the man!" She approaches Harry, touches his cheek. "Lovely indeed. No wonder you fancy him, Louis. He is very handsome."

His cheeks turn ten shades darker, "I  _ know _ ."

Sarah clears her throat, "so Louis. You'll need to feed him every seventy two hours. If he turns slightly gray within that time, he must feed again. Easy enough?"

He nods, "from where though?" 

"Well, not between your legs," Niall giggles.

Louis' anger surges, "Niall!!!" 

"The  _ wrist _ is fine," Sarah interjects, reaches for him to touch his skin. "Easier, too. Just place it over his mouth and he'll know what to do."

"Oh! Reminds me of breastfeeding!" Ms. Boyle adds. 

Louis puffs his cheeks, "wonderful, I'm nursing my undead boyfriend."

"What happens if he doesn't stop?" Niall asks.

Ms. Boyle is still touching Harry's face delicately, "oh, he will. He's very much aware of all of you. Especially you, Louis." He blushes. "He'll be a lovely house guest!"

"How does  _ she _ know that?" Niall questions.

"Right here, dear. Look-" Ms. Boyle points to his closed eyes "-they're following Louis."

"Uh..."

"He shouldn't be any trouble," Sarah continues, turns to Louis. "If you have any issues, let me know." She hands him a card. "Call me anytime."

"I will," he assures.

It was the same daily routine, although Louis occasionally slept next to Harry, but it was the same day in and day out. Louis would spend most of his mornings with him, drink his coffee, and eat quietly while taking in his features. After work, Ms. Boyle and Louis would sit in the spare room with him, play Gin rummy or a boardgame, occasionally use Harry's abdomen as a table. Maybe Louis would pray he'd open his eyes but he never did.

After his maid left, he would curl Harry's hair, drape it around his face, clean off any excess blood on his chin after he fed, pull on his blouse to avoid wrinkles. It helped Louis cope, helped him pretend Harry was just sleeping, helped him feel closer to his undead human.

One morning, about two months or so later, while Louis slept next to him, he felt Harry's chest move. It wasn't much but it startled him, gave him so much hope he nearly cried.

"Harry?" Louis turns towards him, places his hand on Harry's stomach, "are you there?" He caresses his face, begs him to please show him a sign of life. "Harry? I miss you."

More time past, more feeding, more games, and hair curling. It was all the same. Harry's abdomen would move once or twice, give Louis such hope! And he felt as if Harry was improving, but it would always end the same. 

Louis was heartbroken. 

"I don't know anymore," Louis says to Ms. Boyle one evening.

She's preparing one of her meatless concoctions that looks to be tacos, "what's that dear?" 

He sighs, "Harry. He's been unresponsive for so long. I feel like he'll never wake up."

"But dear, you said his chest moved," she's dicing a tomato and green pepper. "Who's to say he doesn't do more when you're not home?"

He shrugs, "why? Have you seen more?"

She turns around with a pinched grin, "of course!"

Louis' mouth pops open, "when!? What does he do? Does he open his eyes? Maybe move a leg? Or his arm-"

She chuckles, "he murmurs."

"He does?" Louis whispers, "what's he saying?"

_ " _ Your name, dear," Ms. Boyle reveals.

And Louis nearly falls off the chair! "He  _ does _ !?" 

"Of course! He's so  _ very _ fond of you."

He looks to his maid with uncertainty, "how do you even know this? Are you secretly a centuries old immortal who is able to walk in daylight?"

"Dear," she grins, her pinched features becoming  _ more _ pinched, "I was married to a vampire."

"What!" He chokes, "you!? Seriously!? I thought it was just your vocal couch!?"

"Yes! How do you think I found her? My husband, may he rest in peace, introduced us."

"Wait, he's passed? What happened?"

Ms. Boyle places a plate with three softshell tacos in front of him, "he decided it was time." 

"But he left you!?" He takes a bite of his dinner and it's delicious, "finally caved and gave me beef?" He comments.

"Never," she begins cleaning. "It's a meat substitute called seitan. You've eaten it plenty of times before."

Louis shrugs, "it's good."

"Thank you my dear. I stopped eating meat when I got married," she pauses. "Something about us both being carnivores made me sick. Anyway!" She looks to him once more. "My dear husband was alive for centuries. And I do miss him very much but I could understand."

Louis finishes off a taco, "yeah? How so?"

"Imagine walking through such a lonely life? Imagine finding yourself as an immortal with no rush to actually  _ live _ ? Imagine the empty, cold nights and the desire to be-"

"Okay, okay!" Louis sits back, "I get it. It's a boring existence."

"Until you meet the right person that is," she winks. "Then it's full of adventure, joy, and passion!"

He flinches, "y-yeah, passion."

"My husband had enough and I couldn't blame him."

"But don't you miss him?" Louis begins to eat again.

"Of course! But he knew I would be okay," she says.

"Oh. Alright well that's cool. What was his name?"

"Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart!

He chokes on his dinner, smacks at his chest! "Wh-what? The  _ composer _ !?"

"Yes! He loved my voice and it was basically love at first sight," she grins.

"Oh, man," he's silent for a moment, munching on his taco. "So you married a famous composer. Didn't people recognize him?"

"Well, without the wig, I suppose not. He was quite modern just like your Harry."

His stomach flurries with the prospect of Harry being his, but it seems impossible, "right.  _ Mine _ ."

"He'll awaken soon, my dear. Just give him time."

So Louis does. He gives Harry that chance, speaks to him, feeds him, curls his hair, occasionally touches his cheek, whispers sweet nothings in his ear-

"Damn it, Harry!" He cries out one night. "Just, just wake up! You're healthy, you're beautiful, you look so alive right now but you're _ not _ . You're so cold, stiff, unresponsive." He sulks. "Is my blood enough? Is it helping you!?" 

He rushes to Harry's side, cups his cheeks, "I was hoping it would speed things up. I hoped you would remember my awful taste and immediately come to! You know? Just like the first time? You saved me." He gently kisses Harry's pink lips. "And now, Harry. I want to save you." 

Louis kisses him again, lingers for a moment or two, maybe hopes Harry will reciprocate.

_ But he didn't _ .

"I don't know!" Louis' in Sarah's office, "I feel like he's not improving!" She's sitting quiet, listening intently. "And, and I felt his chest move! A few times! And my housekeeper said he whispered my name!"

Her eyes widen, "really?" She turns to a silent Niall. "I'm assuming you felt that?"

He grips his fingers, "I have."

Louis' heart flutters, "you did!? What was it? What did you feel?"

"He's thinking of you," Niall admits. "And he remembers you touching his face." He frowns. "And kissing him."

Louis flushes, "yes. I couldn't help it."

"He knows."

"Then why doesn't he return the gesture!?"

Sarah sighs, "I told you, Louis. It's a long process."

He wanted to shout at Harry's body, stir something out of the undead human, test  _ his _ strength to see if he truly misses Louis and not just the physical aspect.

"What the fuck, Harry!" He begins, "I've been waiting on you for  _ months _ now,  _ months  _ and you haven't so much as given me a sign! You speak to Ms. Boyle, say my name, reach out to  _ Niall _ , but never me directly. Never your  _ lover _ !" 

He grips Harry's cheeks once more, "or is that all I am?" He whispers. "A lover? A body? A blood bank?" Harry's still. " _ A vessel _ ?" 

Harry's arm twitches.

"Woah," Louis grips his fingers. "Struck a chord?" He searches Harry's face. "I know you hate that word but that's what I feel like right now. I'm your vessel." He sits back on the bed, leans against the headboard still holding Harry's hand. 

He sighs, gazes down at their linked fingers.

"But I think we were at some point because of the way you looked at me. I could tell I meant something to you," he says. "I meant  _ more _ than just my gross blood and now I wish I could have told you how I felt unless you knew already." He puffs his cheeks. "Niall seems to but the connection between you and I was broken."

A tear escapes his eye suddenly.

"My subconscious is telling me I used to be attached to you, that I fell for you right away, that I was so far gone for you I let you bite me between the-" he blushes "-the legs. And now that I think about it, I'd probably really fucking enjoy it." His eyes well. "And that's all I'd want which is weird- well not weird. But you know. Xander ruined it for me I think. He sort of-"

Harry's fingers twitch.

"He was so harsh and he hurt. He made me fearful of it! He was scary," he eventually lays down, grips Harry's hand. "I think you were, too. But not all the time." Louis' eyes are heavy. "Maybe once? The first time? The black eyes…" he yawns. "Long teeth." He lies flush against Harry. "Claws. Darkness. Evil." 

Louis kisses Harry's cheek.

"Beauty. Elegance. Perfection," he continues sleepily. "Compassion. Warmth. Love." 

He awakens sometime later and it's freezing, his fingers like ice and teeth chattering. He must have forgotten the window but then he realizes it's summer.

His eyes spring open.

**H**

Harry fought against the numbness consuming him, ran towards the light, was resurrected from the confines of darkness that surrounded him. He cherished Louis' voice, used his strength to his advantage, surged forward and managed to escape.

It took time but he won.

He found his way out, pushed past the heaviness in his body, remembered why he found himself in this predicament in the first place. And to him it was worth the battle, the discomfort, the shock of the heart attack, the shock of loss.

And Louis is next to him, gripping his hand, offering his warmth, holding him so close and it's the most precious moment. He's never felt this comforted and appreciated. 

Harry opens his eyes, searches the strange room, but the body next to him is unmistakable. He turns towards him and Louis' fast asleep, his heavy breathing indicating as such. 

"Louis," he sighs. "You're here."

**L**

Louis' staring up into a lovely face, glowing irises, and cascading curls. It's a dream or so he thought because it's all too real. The chilled air, the breath hitting his cheeks, the weight of the body lying against him.

"It worked," he squeaks. "I did it. You're awake!" He reaches up and cups Harry's cheeks. "I knew the vessel comment would do the trick."

"Why didn't you try sooner?" He whispers.

And his voice is like a dream, a beautiful song to Louis' ears! "Dunno, I thought begging would be enough," he glances away. "I feared _ I  _ wasn't enough, you know? So maybe I was buying myself time."

Harry touches his cheek in return, runs his thumb along Louis' jaw, "why wouldn't you be enough?"

He blushes, "w-well, well you know I'm just a stupid human-"

Harry kisses his gently on the lips, "you're not stupid."

"-and you have needs I can't satisfy," Louis finishes.

His eyes widen, "who said that?"

"Now look at who's asking all the questions!"

Harry sits up, "Louis, answer me. Who would assume you can't  _ satisfy  _ my needs? Whatever the fuck that means anyway."

Louis shrugs, turns away, "I guess because I'm not a vampire? I'm just a regular guy looking for a relationship? I don't know."

"Well, it's not  _ true _ ," Harry quickly stands, nearly stumbles over probably from the months of disuse, " _ fuck _ ."

Louis jumps off the bed to steady him, grips his forearms, "are you okay?" Harry's turned away though, masking his features and probably his emotions. "Look it's okay if you're a little fuzzy or tired. You've been asleep for a bit-"

"How long?" He sounds strained.

"Almost a year," Louis reveals.

Harry grips his curls, "a  _ year _ !?" 

"Y-yeah, yeah a year, Harry-" Louis' practically pinned to the wall, his cheeks cradled between Harry's hands. A pair of incisors come into view then, his excitement springs to life as if his body  _ knows _ . "Are you hungry?" He asks.

**H**

"You said my name," Harry gazes into Louis' blue irises, becomes entranced in their beauty and sincerity. "You know what that does to me." He grins.

Louis clears his throat, "I, I do? I do!" He nods. "Right-" 

He dips his head, comes within inches of Louis' mouth. Harry wants to kiss him, wants to touch and explore, rediscover Louis' body with hungry fingers. Take what's finally  _ his _ , "I'm  _ famished _ ." He can't hide his arousal, presses himself into Louis lower abdomen.

"That's what I figured," he licks his lips, loops his arms around Harry's neck. "Kiss me then? Prove I'm enough for you."

Harry doesn't hesitate and closes the distance between them, captures Louis' mouth, and savors in the delicate taste and warmth. His fingers begin their exploration, move over the plains of Louis' bare back and perky bottom. 

He's reintroducing himself to this beautiful being, kissing with abandon, completely removing himself from reality. 

"There's nothing to prove," he whispers between kisses. "You've already proven enough."

Louis' just as hungry, frenzied, "I hope so." 

**L**

"No need for hoping, Louis," Harry looks him square in the eyes, holds his attention. But he wants to kiss and touch and be- "but there's something I need to do first."

Louis licks his mouth, thrusts his hips forward, " _ what _ ?" Harry touches his throat, exposes his fangs. 

His first instinct is to turn his head, give Harry access to his neckline, allow him to take that much needed bite, to Mark him. But why is he hesitant? Why are these thoughts of pain and fear replaced with the pleasure Louis' dreamt of? 

He flinches, "oh."

Harry finds his gaze, "it won't hurt."

"Why do I feel like you've told me that before?" Louis jests.

"That's because I  _ have _ , in this very way actually. But that was different," Harry assures. 

He stands on his tip toes, "how so?"

"I'm not your predator," he grins, his incisors gleaming in the dim of the room. He leans in closer, "don't be afraid."

And now Louis understands the attraction, his subconscious reminding him how he loved the rush, the pleasure-pain, the way Harry held him so close.

He groans aloud, practically collapses into Harry and he hasn't even done anything, hasn't touched him the way his body recalls.

"N-now," Louis grunts. "Harry,  _ now _ !!"

"With  _ pleasure _ ," Harry closes the distance between them and completely takes his breath away.

**H**

"What are you going to do with it?" Louis asks.

They're standing outside  _ the _ house a few months later, the dreaded house that caused Harry nothing but pain and suffering, "sell it." He concludes.

Louis chuckles, "how?"

Harry glances towards him, takes in his side profile, stubbled jawline and tousled hair, "how what?" He knows what they'll be doing later. "I'll put it on the market and  _ sell _ the house."

"Dude, have you looked inside?" Louis points, "not only are there-" Louis lowers his voice "-dead bodies under the bed and blood staining the floors-" he shivers "-but the decor is from like the 1920's! That would take months to bring up to date!"

" _ Dude _ , have  _ you _ looked inside?" Harry turns back towards the greystone Xander had built for the two of them. 

"Uh, no see I've actually been avoiding this place like the fucking plague."

He takes Louis' hand, "you haven't seen the updates I did."

"Updates?" Louis questions as they ascend the stairs. He's pulling back slightly as if fearful. Well, he  _ is _ fearful. 

But Harry withholds that small detail, finds having this new ability to read Louis' thoughts invasive and honestly he was glad he didn't know about this sooner.

And now it makes sense why Xander became incredibly angry with him. He knew what Harry felt every waking second of every day, knew Harry's next move before he did! 

Now Harry wishes he was the one to destroy his Maker, "don't be afraid."

Louis nearly trips up the steps, "the last time I was here, I almost became your Maker's _ dinner _ !"

"Not exactly, you were meant to be mine," Harry recollects. "But that's long gone now-"

"I still  _ am  _ yours," Louis nudges him. "But I know what you mean. This place just gives me the damn creeps, that's all."

"Trust me. It won't feel like that anymore."

Harry opens the front door, that's still black, into a grand foyer with marble floors, gold accents, and every modern touch a home in this neighborhood should possess. 

Louis squints, "holy shit it's bright! And so open!" He walks in first, looks around in complete awe. "Woah! When did you do this!?"

"I personally didn't do anything," he watches his human explore, takes in his plump ass and curvy waist. "I hired a contractor and now it's ready to be put on the market." He'd jump him right here.

"I just-" Louis finds the fireplace, touches the original, restored mantel. 

Harry follows after him noting his distress, "why are you anxious?"

Louis shakes his head, "you're worse than Niall." He huffs. "I hate this fucking house and the memories it holds. I don't know how you're standing in it." Louis gazes at him. "It may have a completely different look, but the feeling is still ominous."

Harry nods, "that's why I'm getting rid of it."

"Where will you go then?" Louis takes his hand and drags him towards the door.

"What? No tour?" 

" _ Fuck  _ no. I want out!"

"But what if I wanted to Christen the place?" He asks although it's almost a demand. Louis looks too enticing in his fitted jeans.

Louis shakes his head, "nope. Let the next couple take it. We're late anyway. My friends are waiting."

"But…" Harry approaches him, pulls Louis to his chest, "from what I'm sensing-"

"Really!?" Louis punches at his stomach, blows him a raspberry, "of course I'm fucking  _ horny _ ! But I'm not doing shit with you in this place. So let's hurry up and get this show on the road before you decide to take me in the alleyway behind the bar."

He chuckles aloud, "I already have!"

Louis rushes down the steps, "of  _ course _ . Anything else I'm missing since you wiped my memory clean?"

Harry catches up to him, "nothing too important, just some great sex."

" _ Goodie _ ," Louis quips. 

"I wanted to stay with you and Ms. Boyle," he finally manages to confess.

Louis stops mid step, turns to him wide eyed, "you do?" 

"Yeah."

"Oh," Louis takes his hand, guides them up the block towards his car. "I mean, you're more than welcome to. It may get boring at night for you, no?"

"I'll still live my life but I'll be with you, too, you know?" He's fumbling for the right words, coming up empty handed. What's he trying to say? Does Louis want an undead boyfriend?

"Does living your life mean feeding off of other humans?"

"What!" He's shocked at Louis' accusation, "no! Why do you think I would do that?"

Louis shakes his head, but now it's evident he was joking, "lighten up there, will you?" They reach Louis' car. 

"Maybe I want to make sure you don't bring random men home."

Louis turns as white as snow, " _ what _ ?"

"Lighten up there, will you?" Harry mocks.

"You shit!" Louis smacks him, "that's not funny!"

"I know it isn't so why would you think I'd feed on other humans?" Harry questions although he knows the answer.  _ Damn it _ .

"Because you need to eat and you hate the way I taste," Louis frowns. "What if you starve?"

"I take what I need," he wants to embrace his human, hold him close, feel his warmth and affection.

"What if it's not enough?"

"Then I'll go to Sarah," he reassures. "I've been around for a bit, don't worry about me."

"That's what we do, Harry-" 

His body hums with lust, "not here." He says between gritted teeth.

Louis takes a steps back, "sorry." He clears his throat. "Yeah, we uh, we worry. Humans worry. I worry! You need to be strong and healthy, not sickened by my taste."

"I'm not being hunted down by my Maker anymore, Louis. Everything is safe."

"Well, if you insist," Louis says. "Unless there's an ancient vampire living under the floorboards that you're not telling me about."

"No, Louis. I'm safe especially with Sarah on my side."

"Alright, fine."

"So it's okay then?" Harry presses because this is his only option at least until he sells the house. Maybe then he'll by them something on the water.

"Of course you can stay with me, under one condition though." 

Harry folds his arms across his chest, "what's that?" 

"You have to put me to bed every night," Louis waggles his eyebrows, kisses him on the lips. 

"Your wish is my command," Harry's incisors elongate on instinct.

"Woah there buddy, keep those babies in for now."

"It's Halloween and I'm a vampire. I'd say they're  _ very _ fitting," he grips Louis to his chest once more. "And you're my unsuspecting victim." He purrs.

Louis practically melts into him, glances into his eyes, "you've already teared at my collar and bloodied my shirt and neck."

"I need a sample for the ride over," Harry kisses him gently, holds him impossibly close. 

"F-fuck, you're the devil," Louis groans. "Alright,  _ five minutes _ , you beast. Then we have to go."

"That's all I need," Harry drags Louis back to the house. "Let's make some new memories."

"Good because you took the other ones!" Louis follows close behind giggling the entire way.


End file.
